The Warmbloods
by NeonJackal214
Summary: Judy is on a date, but what she doesn't know is that Nick is confronting his past... as something of a punk rock legend. Semi-AU, takes place just after Nick's graduation. Wildehopps.
1. Chapter 1

Nick

 _Why am I dwelling on this? She's going on a date. So what. She's allowed to do that. I have bigger things to worry about_. I chide myself silently, but the MuzzleTime conversation with my rabbit friend which just ended has stuck itself permanently in my brain. At least part of what I'm telling myself is true- I do have bigger things to worry about. Things of much greater importance, however, I've been trying not to think about it all day, because whenever I do, I feel as though I'm going to either shout for joy or go the restroom and puke my guts out. This feeling is actually quite nostalgic. It brings back memories of when we would play concerts every other day. However, it's stronger this time, for a variety of reasons.

I stuff my phone into my pocket and pull the small bowl of cricket curry which I've been reheating from the microwave. I take a bite, and am pleased to find that it's still good. I glance at my watch and sigh. _Finnick's coming soon. I should probably get ready to go._

Almost five years ago, Zootopia had something more famous than Gazelle. They were a four mammal band known as "The Warmbloods." They produced fifteen of the most famous rock and punk songs ever. And then, they disappeared without a trace. This story is well known all over the city, and is told by musicians and fans of the band almost unceasingly, because it's quite the tale- why would such a successful band just quit, and leave everything. _Of course,_ they say, _we'll never know, because the band kept all four of its members under codenames. They're completely anonymous._ Whenever someone tells this story to me, I have a very hard time looking them directly in the eye and nodding as though I agree. They could never know that I have a much… shall we say, _deeper_ , understanding of the Warmbloods. No one has ever guessed, and I'm okay with that.

I march to my bedroom, sidestepping the small bucket on the floor that collects the water dripping through the roof. Constant leaks are a hazard of living in the Rainforest District. I could buy a nicer apartment, of course, but I enjoy living humbly. There's only so much money a fox needs, and I'd rather not look like I make money as some sort of rock star.

Even though I do.

I pull the door to my bedroom open, and walk in. My bedroom is the epitome of humble, containing only the necessities. A dresser, a bed, a desk with a cheap laptop sitting open on it, and two guitars, one acoustic, one electric, in cases lying at the foot of the bed. I walk over to the guitars and quickly look over the case to make sure I have everything.

Picks. _Check._

Replacement strings just in case. _Check._

Guitars. _Uh, duh._

I nod to myself, and turn towards the computer. It's open to an email from foxyfinnick69 , with the subject line IMPORTANT: SET LIST FOR TONIGHT. The thread shows a long chain of emails in which I debate the merits of playing the band's more popular songs with him, and in which he finally gives in. I smirk, and shut the laptop with a snap. Tonight is about the band, and I think I'm finally ready to do it.

I hear a knock on the door, and I can almost see the small, aggressive fox standing behind it, waiting impatiently to for me to just come on out, for god's sake. I grab my guitars, sling them over my back, walk to the door, and throw it open. Finnick stands below me, looking up at me with a combination nervous smile and psyched grin.

"What's up, Nick." He says with a grin, taking in the guitars on my back. "I haven't seen you like that in forever."

"Yeah. Probably too long, honestly." I shrug. "You ready for tonight?" I ask. Finnick doesn't say anything, instead, from behind him, he produces a black case and pops it open. Inside are two white drumsticks, with WARMBLOOD written in red on one and black on another.

"I'll take that as a yes." I say with a smirk. He nods, and checks his phone as I make my way out of the door, shutting it and locking it behind me.

"James is on his way, and Big H says he's unlocked the back door and we should unload our stuff there."

"Any idea how we're going to the stage without being noticed?" I ask.

"James says he's got us covered."

"Does Henry have the masks?" I say.

"Yep, Big H is on top of it." Finnick confirms.

Masks are a huge part of the Warmblood legend. We wear a combination of a ski and masquerade mask onstage to conceal our identities. I'm technically the only one of us whose mask doesn't cover the mouth. I sing, and thus, covering the mouth is impossible.

"Just like old times." Finnick murmurs as we hop into his van. I nod, and turn the radio on as he backs out of the parking lot behind my apartment building. The radio is on a talk show, and the host is talking excitedly about the upcoming Warmbloods concert.

"—is their first concert in five years, and still nothing is known about the band. Tickets sold out in less than seven minutes, and seeing as the concert is being held in a full scale Elephantine Memorial Amphitheater, which seats- get ready for it- 60,000 large mammals and an additional 20,000 small mammals, that seven minute sell out time is insane. This may actually be the concert of the year. We now go live to the amphitheater, where Jason Bearly is standing by as the doors are—"

Finnick laughs. "Concert of the year, eh Nick?" he says, turning to me. "Think we're gonna live up to the hype?"

"Damn sure." I reply. "We're the Warmbloods, we live for the hype."

Finnick laughs so hard I'm afraid he's going to choke, and speeds the car out of the rainforest district and towards Precinct One, and the amphitheater.

Noting the time (just before 6:00 PM) I pull out my phone, and send Carrots a text.

 _Have fun on your date, Carrots._

She replies within seconds.

 _Thank you, Nick! Where r u?_

I pause, before typing out a response that is technically true.

 _On my way to the Warmbloods concert._

 _OMG I 3 THE WARMBLOODS NICHOLAS WHY AREN'T U TAKING ME_

I laugh, and respond.

 _Really, you like punk rock? The Warmbloods are an angry band and they play angry music. Not for you._

 _I LOVE THEM DON'T U DARE INSULT THEM_

 _Haha._

 _TAKE ME TAKEMETAKEMETAKEMETAKEME_

 _I would, Carrots, but you're busy tonight. Maybe if they play again, I'll take you._

 _U BETTER. Have fun! RECORD SOME OF IT AND SHOW IT TO ME 2MORROW._

 _Fair enough. Talk later?_

 _Yes. Definitely._

 _kk. have fun, Carrots._

I slide my phone back into my pocket. Finnick looks casually over at me.

"That was the rabbit, right?"

"Yep."

"You are in over your head, man." Finnick chuckles. "She's something, that bunny. I've never seen you like this about anyone or anything."

"Yeah…" I nod. "The interspecies thing is an issue though. She probably wouldn't even look at me." I say, sadness leaking into my voice.

Finnick turns to me sharply. "People who don't believe in interspecies relationships are asshats, and we both know that. You're a nice fox, Nick. She'll see that."

"I guess."

"Nick." Finnick says, slowly. "Take whatever you're feeling, and use it tonight. Then it might actually be a great concert."

I nod. That much, at least makes sense. _Just like the old times,_ I think sardonically. Back when anger and exhaustion and frustration from days of con jobs made our music shine with anger and passion and frustration.

We arrive in a back alley. The alley is behind a bar known as "the Savanna Ale Hole" and is two blocks away from the amphitheater. Together, Finnick and I grab all of our stuff and drag it through a door in the alley wall which leads into a dingy, poorly lit back room in the Ale Hole. Inside, a lion sits on a dusty amp, watching us. As soon as Finnick walks in, he stands, and wordlessly wraps Finnick in an embrace.

" _Let- erk- me go- ack- James_ " Finnick chokes, and James puts him down.

"Good to see you, James." I smile.

"Nick, my main mammal!" James booms. The lion is beautiful, with a large gold mane and his mask already on over his face. Strapped to his back is an enormous bass guitar. "You ready to play?"

"Yep." I say.

"Good," A fourth voice says dryly, "I was getting worried." The final member of the band, the second guitarist Henry enters the room. He's a fairly large Honey Badger, and also happens to be the bartender for the Ale Hole. He reaches behind the amp that James was sitting on and tosses two strange objects to Finnick and me. I know what it is when I catch it- it's my mask. I pull it on slowly, the feel of the fabric covering my face. I admire myself in the darkened window near the roof. I look like a fox demon, and that's just what people want to think.

"Henry, how are we getting to the stage?" I ask.

Henry gives a toothy smile. "I spent all of last week building a tunnel to an abandoned subway line below the ground. The line once stopped at an old station that was the foundation for Elephantine. The stop's stairs lead into the basement, and from there, all we have to do is climb and we can get on stage.

"Seems good." James nods.

"Everyone have the set list for tonight?" Finnick inquires.

"Yeah, it's a good list." Henry says. "You know how much I love to play the guitar solo in 'Zootopian Idiot'."

Finnick laughs. "Yeah, and that's a big hit too. We can work with the list, but for now, we should just focus on playing it."

The group nods, and everyone sets about gathering up their stuff. Within what seems like five minutes, everyone is carrying something that we need. All of us are masked. I glance at my watch.

"6:47." I say.

"We go on at 7:00, right?" James asks. The group nods in agreement. "We should get going then."

With this, Henry shifts the amp aside, revealing a five foot wide hole in the concrete floor. "Follow me, and don't go off of the path." He orders. He begins to climb down the hole into the darkness. James follows, then Finnick, until only I am left.

I take a deep breath, and my mind flickers to Judy. I nod, gulp, and follow Finnick down into the darkness below.

Even from here, backstage, I can hear the noise of the crowd. We're the only people backstage right now. Once we leave, then the security guards hired by James will allow the stage managers and whoever else in. But only after we take the stage.

Across the stage, shielding it from the view of the crowd, is an enormous black curtain. I know that on the front of the curtain is an enormous logo of a fox paw gripping a hypodermic needle- the Warmbloods logo.

We, the four of us, look at each other. Then, as though by mutual agreement, we walk out. Behind the curtain, no one knows that we have taken the stage. We all assume kneeling positions in a line across the front of the stage. Behind the curtain, the lights come up. I see the backstage workers have come on, and are preparing themselves. I wait.

There's a series of unbelievably loud pops, and explosions at the top of the curtain allow it to fall to the ground. The lights are on us, and the noise of the crowd pumps in my ear. It's something almost alien- the screaming of 80,000 fans. I stand, and walk to the microphone in the center of the stage.

"ZOOTOPIA!" I shout. The screams triple in volume. "FUCK YEAH!" I roar. Behind me, I see the others getting up, putting their instruments on, getting ready to play. I look back. Finnick is at the drums, Henry has his guitar, and James is ready as well. I turn back to the crowd.

"THIS IS!" I scream. "A LITTLE LESS SIXTEEN CAMELS!"

Henry begins to hammer out the opening riff, and the crowd explodes, I walk forward, waiting for my cue.

"I confess, I messed up, dropping I'm sorry like you're still around!" I sing, and hold the mic out towards the crowd.

" _AND I KNOW, YOUR DRESSED UP, 'HEY KID YOU'LL NEVER LIVE THIS DOWN!'"_ they sing back.

I whoop, and sing the next lines. I forgot. This is the reason. It's not about the money, it's always about the music. The Con Jobs were for the money. But right now, I'll savor this concert, this moment.

The crowd is bouncing to the chorus, James is singing with me, and the bright lights of the stage wash away everything but the here and now. And for now, that's the only thing I want.

 **AUTHORS NOTE: For the Warmblood's Songs, I will use songs from other punk rock artists (FOB, MCR, Green Day, etc.) I DO NOT OWN ZOOTOPIA. Stay Tuned. This is only the beginning.**


	2. Chapter 2

Nick

My eyes open as the alarm clock peals incessantly. I groan, slapping wildly around until my hand hits something and the noise stops. Slowly, I sit up, rubbing my eyes blearily. The room is just as I left it, but I even if I was robbed I wouldn't be able to tell, I'm too tired. I reach over to the nightstand where the alarm sits and grab my phone, waking it up. I have five texts.

Finnick: _Nice concert last night. You should watch the news. Also, for your own health, never crowd-surf again. It was cool, but I was srsly worried you were gonna get hurt._

That's right. The concert. I struggle to remember, but only bits and pieces of the night fly through my mind. It was unbelievable- that's for sure. I can remember a bit of the crowd surfing, too. It was a big hit with the crowd, I think. I remember that the actual set list was a good choice. And most clearly, I remember the last song, with fireworks shooting up from behind the stage as I sang. I smile. Hopefully, I'll remember more as the day goes on. The phone clock reads 6:00 AM. Ironically, the night after the concert may be the first time I've ever woken up on time. I scroll down, deciding I'll answer Finnick's text later.

Judy: _OMG I can hear the Warmbloods from here at the restaurant! Hope u r having a good time!_

"Good time doesn't even begin to cover it." I murmur to myself. I scroll down.

James C: _Good concert tonight guys. Henry, when do we play next?_

Henry: _The next official tour date is in two weeks, at the Precinct One central plaza. Of course, we will be playing together before that. Obviously._

I stare at these two texts, trying to piece them together. Then I remember the announcement, last night. The announcement that made the audience react completely, totally batshit crazy. I smirk. I scroll to the final text.

C. Bogo: _Wilde, I need you in my office at 7:00 sharp before roll call. Do not be late._

"What this time?" I groan, staring at my phone. I've gotten called into the chief's office plenty of times before, but always with Judy. I sigh, sit up, and walk towards the closet. From within, I pull my uniform out (it's easy to pull it out even without looking- it's the only piece of clothing other than my band stuff that's kept clean and ironed at all times) and dress quickly. I head into my kitchen, make myself some granola and yogurt, turn the TV on, and sit down in front of it.

"— _their concert last night, they made the announcement that they would be going on a finale tour, which would end with an enormous finale concert and the release of their final album. In my opinion, Peter, the band has not lost any of their spark with the Zootopian mammals. When they performed their megahit "Mammalian Rhapsody," you would've thought the roof was going to come down!_

" _I can imagine."_ The moose newscaster chuckles, and then becomes serious once more. " _However, I hear that the band made quite a statement last night."_

" _Yes, they did, Peter. Before the final song of the concert, the lead singer noticed a large booth at the back of the amphitheater which was protesting against interspecies relationships. It has become more and more custom for many groups to do this. However, all members of the band stated in no uncertain terms that 'interspecies relationships should be supported,' unless, in the words of the lead singer, 'you are a,' um… 'moose-faced whore.'"_

I choke on a mouthful of blueberries. _Did I actually say that?!_ I take a quick second to commend myself for coming up with the "moose-faced whore" line, and then revert quickly back to shock. Interspecies relationships are about the least talked about subject here in the city. It's a dark, lonely corner of the romance life of Zootopia that no one talks about because most people want to pretend that it doesn't exist. So the fact that myself (and all the others, for _fox's sake,_ why would they choose to follow me like that?!) chose to make a stand like that is sort of insane.

Actually, scratch sort of.

An idea has planted itself in my mind. It's insane- completely and totally insane. I shove it to the back of my mind with a snarl. _Nope. She's not single, and she won't look at foxes._

… _yet._

I grab my sunglasses from off of the rack near the door, put them on, tuck my shirt in, and head out into the hall. I lock the door behind me and jog down the stairs. I'm at least 15 minutes early for my bus. I text Judy as I walk.

 _I'll get coffee 2day. C u in 45._

I arrive at the coffee joint in less than five minutes. It's located fairly central here in the rainforest district, but what's even more surprising is that even though it's almost right next to my piece-of-shit apartment, the coffee is about the best you can get. The whole place has just opened, and there are only two people working right now. It makes sense- the real rush hour for this place is later.

I walk up to the barista, who smiles placidly at me and asks me if he can take my order.

"Yeah, can I have a large mocha and a small cappuccino?" I say. I'm not sure how Judy can drink me under the table coffee-wise, I've just grown to accept it.

The barista's placid smile widens and he nods, takes my money, and heads to the machine. I wait at the other end of the line, looking around. At the other end of the small café, there's a large baboon who's mopping the floors, getting ready for the day to begin. I spare him only a glance, but do a double take. The baboon is wearing a hat which reads "INTERSPECIES MATES ARE A-OK WITH ME!" in all caps.

"What's with the hat?" I ask calmly.

"What, this?" the baboon says, looking up. "I got this at a rally last night. It gets all the ladies to look at me. A real attention grabber."

"Do you mean it?" I ask.

"This?" the baboon adjusts his hat awkwardly. "Well… off the record?"

"Yeah, sure." I comment.

"Yeah, I really do support it. People should have the right to be in love with whoever they're in love with. I mean, I love another baboon, and that's okay too, but we're all the same at the core."

I give him a half-smile. It's a little refreshing.

"I can't usually say it out loud, though." He says sheepishly. "Because so many people are against it. I mean, you hear things about what the Warmbloods did at their concert last night, and you feel really hopeful, but it's still super rare for people to come straight out and endorse it."

I leave the shop in a haze. _What on earth just happened?_ I get on another bus, which will take me to city center, and sit there, drinking my coffee slowly and trying to work my brain around the baboon's words. It's true, everything. Maybe that proves something my mother once told me- " _the wisest people are often found in the strangest places."_

I'm not sure, however, that I can really understand how big our stand last night was. The last time a serious music group took a stand on a divisive issue, it completely changed the amount of support. At that time, the Zootopia government was divided in terms of the issue of prey in the predator workplace. The most famous band at the time (and my personal idols) "Of Mice and Mirth" took a fucking stand, saying that prey were just as capable as predators and predators weren't going to do shit, it wasn't like we were still savage, and the whole issue was turned into a unanimous cry for resolution.

I get off the bus as it lets out in city center and jog to the department headquarters. I enter, and breathe in the scent of fresh donuts, paper, ink, and the unidentifiable final smell that makes this office smell like a combination bookstore and bakery.

"Nick, Chief wants to see you in his office." Clawhauser speaks from out of a mouthful of donut.

"I heard." I say. "Where's Judy?"

"Still not here yet."

That's surprising. I always get in after her.

"Well then. Give her this, and don't drink it for _crying out loud_ , when and if she gets in."

"You got it, Nick."

I gesture my thanks over my shoulder, and job over to the stairs. I jump them two at a time, reaching the top within seconds. I jog over to the doors to the Chief's office, adjust my sunglasses, smooth back my fur, and push them open.

"WHAT IS UP CHIEF." I say loudly and snarkily, swaggering in through the door. "GREAT DAY TODAY RIGHT?! EVEN FOR Y—"

"Wilde. Sit down, shut up. Now." The buffalo doesn't even turn around, and his voice carries such authority that I shut my yap, close the door, and sit down in the chair facing him. I'm struck with the urge to laugh when I see that there are now two chairs pulled up to his desk- clear evidence of the many, many times I've been in here with Carrots. My phone buzzes, and I resist the urge to pick it up and look at it. Instead, I watch the Chief intently, waiting for his response.

Finally, his chair turns, and he faces me. He looks exhausted, as though he was up all night.

"Let's talk," he says, leaning in closer to me. "About money. We don't make enough of it, as police officers."

"I don't know that I'd say that." I chirp. "You have a million dollar smile, sir."

"Wilde, I will put you on an undercover mission so deep you will never look your rabbit friend in the eye again. SHUT IT, AND LISTEN TO ME!" he roars. I lean back into my seat, and nod.

"Officer Wilde. Many officers do odd jobs to make more money." He says, his voice tight and controlled. "It is normal. However, the reason I allow them to have these jobs is that it does not interfere with their police life."

"Sir, I don't know what you're tal-"

"I'm talking about your side job, Wilde." He murmurs, looking me dead in the eye. "Lead singer of a famous band. That's fairly important."

I feel as though I'm falling through ice cold, pitch black water. How does he know. How did he find out.

"How…" I whisper.

"Wilde, I simply happen to have followed you a lot during these past months. I learned quite a bit about you. I learned that you are dedicated to this job, to your partner, and that you sing for a rock band and there are about ten million mammals out there who would give their front paws to have you breathe the same air as them."

"Sir, I," I begin, desperately. I feel my phone buzz again, but I don't even really feel it.

"I'm not going to tell anyone." He says.

"Ex-excuse me, Chief?"

"I said," he says gently, "I'm not going to tell anyone, Wilde. I like your music. My most recent favorite is most certainly 'Mr. Brightside'."

I find my breath, and a million questions immediately begin to pop up.

Instead, like the idiot I am, I ask the thing that pops up first. "You like 'Mr. Brightside?' I wrote those lyrics."

"They were good." Bogo says, looking taken aback. "You have a right to be as popular as you are."

"Thank you sir."

"Wilde, listen to me." Bogo says, growing serious again. "I like your music, but I simply can't allow you to headline an organization this popular and continue to be a police officer."

"Sir," I say, "Can I have twelve weeks."

"Why?"

"The finale tour." I explain. "I play for twelve weeks, and then the band breaks up. Permanently. Let me play until then, and then I'll never play for a band again. I want to be a serious cop. But I need to finish this." My phone buzzes again. Dammit.

"I understand that." Bogo takes a deep breath. "Fine. So long as it doesn't interfere with the quality of your work now, you can continue to play for twelve weeks. Fair?"

"Very fair, sir, thank you so much!" I say, leaping up.

"Get down to roll call, Wilde." He says with a smirk. "Don't thank me. I expect tickets for this!" he shouts as I run out the door. I sprint down the stairs and into the roll call room, where I arrive at my seat in less time than it takes to blink. Judy is seated next to me, looking bright and happy as usual.

"Thank you for the coffee, Nick!" she exclaims. "You even managed to get my order right!"

"I'm not a complete imbecile, Carrots." I grumble. "What's up?" I say idly as I check my phone. The text is from Henry.

Henry: _There's an opening at a little bar in Tundra Town. I've signed us up under the name "Rainy Wednesdays." Come if you don't have plans._

Finnick: _Hell yeah, follow-up concert! I'm in._

James: _Why not. I don't have anything going on tonight._

Next to me, Carrots smiles slyly as she sips her coffee. "Well…" she says. "I have a date for tonight. The guy from last night invited me out again"

I stare at her. She looks at me like I'm stupid, but then, it hits her.

"Oh my god." She whispers, covering her mouth. "It's our movie night. Nick, I am so sorry! Can we reschedule?"

I look at her. I'm torn between screaming, passing out, and simply crying. Movie night is my favorite part of the week. I'd already picked out the movie, "The Secret Life of Walter Mousey." I know how much she likes art flicks. But I also know that she's ridiculously organized. There's no way, no way, she would have unintentionally done this.

"Fine." I say quietly. "We can reschedule. Maybe for later in the week." My voice is becoming stronger, but I feel sick to my stomach. It's always like this. I've only been in love twice, including this. Every. Fucking. Time.

"I'm really sorry." She murmurs, and looks as though she's going to say more, but Bogo is walking in, and she turns her attention forward.

I grab my phone, and tap out a response to James slowly, feeling every letter like a gunshot.

Nick: _I'm in. Let's fucking do this._

Judy

"So, where are we going?" I ask brightly. The rabbit driving the car is a tall, slim, and handsome rabbit named Jack, and he smiles at me.

"There's a little bar in Tundra Town that I thought I'd take you to. I know the owner, and he'll be able to get us in, even if it's packed."

"That's so awesome!" I say, excited. I am excited. But something is nagging at me. Maybe it's the strange thought that I'd rather be under a blanket with a fox, watching a bad movie and making fun of it rather than being here, and going to have fun with a member of my species.

"I think you'll like it." He smiles, but the smile vanishes as he pulls up to the bar. The parking lot is completely full- even places that aren't parking spaces now hold cars of all sizes. "What the hell?"

We get out, and he takes my paw in his own. This is supposed to be a gallant move, but all I can think about is how sweaty his paw is. Is he nervous or something. He leads me over to the door, where a large polar bear is smoking and holding back a large crowd of mammals of all sizes.

"Darrion!" Jack shouts. "What the fuck is happening here?!"

Darrion grins. "Surprise concert." He says. "By The Warmbloods."

"Holy hell." Jack says, stunned. "Can we get in?"

"Sure, Jack. But just cause you've got a lady." He winks at me, and Jack smiles at Darrion and pulls me inside.

The inside of the bar is packed to the brim, and the crowd is screaming and bouncing. But I hear the music first. The music I heard when I was younger, that shocked me because of how angry it was. How passionate, even over a recording, the members were. I hear the thumping of the bass and the distorted overtones of the guitar. And I hear the voice, beautiful, sad, and impassioned, which sweeps over in a song I recognize instantly.

" _Well, I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies! This is the dawning of the rest, of our lives…!"_

" _GET READY!"_ another voice shouts, and I lean in. _Where have I heard that voice before?_

" _ON HOLIDAY!"_ the crowd sings, and the cheering explodes like a wave crashing on the beach.

Jack fights his way through the crowd, and I follow him. We're fairly small, so we find a small place quite near the stage. It's a spare amp. We stand, and I can finally look at the band. All of them are masked, and all wear suits that have been torn up intentionally. Fog rolls off of the stage, and they are all faced towards each other in a huddle, away from the crowd. Finally, they turn, and walk back to their mics. And I see him.

A red fox, with green eyes that burn in the lights. Even masked, I'd recognize him.

"NICK?!" I scream, but he can't hear me over the noise of the crowd. He approaches the mic.

"So, today, a friend of mine told me he really liked this song. Plus, I think it fits really well with my situation with this girl I'm sort of in over my head with." He says, fixing the mic. "THANK YOU FOR HAVING US TONIGHT! THIS IS! MR. BRIGHTSIDE!"

The guitar starts up, and I see the guitarist watching Nick intently. Nick starts playing too, and he's good too. He leans into the mic, and starts to sing.

" _Coming out of my cage_ _,_ _and I've been doing just fine_ _,_ _gotta gotta be down, because I want it all._ _It started out with a kiss_ _,_ _how did it end up like this!"_

" _It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss!"_ The crowd sings with him.

I can't speak. I can't breathe. I can only listen to the music swirl around me, and time stops. He's singing about me, and I know it. But no one else does.

" _Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibies."_ He's leaning over, pouring his voice into the song.

" _BUT IT'S JUST THE PRICE I PAY!"_ the crowd is singing. " _DESTINY IS CALLING ME!"_

" _Open up my eaaaaaaa-ger eyes!"_ Nick sing, and I see tears run through the mask and onto the ground. " _Cause I'm Mr. Brightside!"_


	3. Chapter 3

Nick

The sun is at full height when my eyes finally open. I have a customary ten second panic attack before realizing that today is a Saturday. I sit up, looking in the mirror attached to the back of my bedroom door. I'm a mess. I generally look like a mess after a concert, but this is a special combination of a "hung over" sort of mess and a "dumped by my sort-of-girlfriend" mess. I tousle my fur, and slowly climb out of bed. My guitars are placed haphazardly beside the doorframe.

I think about the concert as I pick out clothes for the day. I select my loudest, ugliest Hawaiian shirt, and pair it with khakis and my nicest tie. I know that the tie will only make the shirt look uglier, but I'm too tired to care. I walk over to the nightstand, and as I'm putting the clothes on the bed, I notice a small book. It's nothing big, just a pocketbook. James gave it to me last night. I had been complaining to him about how I can barely remember concerts the next day and he had bought this for me. I smile, and open it to the front page. Inside, I recognize my own scrawl, done in a red pen.

 _Concert Notes_

 _-Too many people._

 _-James wants to have an epic guitar solo._

 _-I want to crowd surf, but meh._

 _-The guitar solo went over well._

 _-Best Songs Thus Far:_

 _-A Little Less Sixteen Camels_

 _-Foxes of Suburbia_

 _-Save Rock and Moles_

 _-Mr. Brightside_

I'm a little surprised to see that I played Foxes of Suburbia or Mr. Brightside. Those are the two most vocally challenging songs, and if I'm honest, I don't exactly have the best work ethic. I smile, and turn the page. On the back, I see a variety of sketches which I recognize as guitar chords, as well as a variety of notes.

 _New Song: Disloyal Soldiers of the Water Buffalo (for Bogo)_

 _I'm coming apart at the seams_

 _Pitching myself for leads in other people's dreams_

 _Now buzz, buzz, buzz, doc there's a hole where something was._

 _Doc, there's a hole where something was._

I sigh. It might be good, but I need to finish it. And I can't finish it without being angry or inspired.

I get a shower, and allow the hot water to wash away the lingering odor of beer and peanuts as it washes away any remnant of the power the stage holds over me. That might honestly be why I became a con man in the first place. I love to perform.

I get out, and put on the clothes that I picked out. I don't have any plans for the day, which, while sad, isn't surprising to me in the slightest. Before Judy, I spent my Saturdays in a room with a guitar, playing old songs and writing new ones. Now that she's dating someone, I suppose it will go back to the way it was before. I adjust my tie, and walk from the room into the kitchen. I walk over to the fridge, grab myself a piece of cricket pizza, and lie down on the couch. I notice my phone, hanging precariously off the couch. I grab it and turn it on.

James: _Nice concert guys!_

Finnick James: _NEVER USE THAT MANY EXCLAMATION POINTS AGAIN. EVER._

James: _Okay!_

I smirk. _Classic Finnick/James banter._ I quickly text out a reply into the group text.

Nick: _James, stop acting like a teenager. Finnick, he can use as many damn exclamation points as he pleases. In other news, I am a deep believer in the exclamation point._

Finnick Nick: _Screw you._

I smile, and go back to the alerts screen to check the rest of my messages. There are quite a few texts from automated bots, which are sending me the hottest deals on Warmbloods tickets. _Too bad I already have the best seats in the house._ I scroll to the bottom.

Judy: _Nick, we need to talk. Now._

I blink. That's odd. I don't remember doing anything to hurt her recently.

Nick: _What's up, Jude?_

I turn the television on, and watch as the commercials for low cost Sahara Square apartments scroll by. My phone buzzes, and I pick it up.

Judy: _Just come by my place ASAP, plz. This is serious._

Well, nothing gets me out of my apartment faster than Judy telling me something is serious. I jump up, turn the T.V. off, grab my keys, and am down by my car in the blink of an eye. I turn on the engine, and hit the gas. Judy's apartment is on the other side of town, but that's not really an issue if you know the right passageways. I listen to the radio as I drive.

" _After their surprise concert yesterday, some mammals are now certain the Warmbloods are bluffing about quitting after the release of their final album, which will go on presale in two weeks."_

" _I don't think so, Phil. The Warmbloods are infamously honest. It's the reason people are attracted to their music- they tell it like it is. That whole stunt with the interspecies marriage and relationships, you know, they legitimately support that. They aren't joking."_

I give my trademark half grin. They're right, we aren't joking. But then again, have we ever joked about the band?

About everything else, yes. I'm a smug sort of fox. But never about music. Never.

I press the doorbell and wait expectantly. I hate this apartment building more than anything else in the precinct, but it's got a very specific doorbell sound which sounds like the shriek of a dying whale which I enjoy. It makes sure that no one can ignore me. I don't think Judy would, but I can't discount the possibility that one day, I'll do something that will screw everything up between us. I just hope today isn't that day. I wait.

Five minutes pass. I hear nothing on the inside.

Ten minutes pass. I hear nothing on the inside.

Fifteen minutes: I hear a scuffling, moving noise of a small body, and hear the click of the lock, and the door slide away.

"Who the hell are you?" Standing in the doorway is a male rabbit. He looks as though he's normally used to being looked at as an impressive sort of figure. But honestly, all I can see is his ungroomed fur and the beginnings of a beer belly. He's in his boxers.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened overnight at Judy's place. I stare at him long and hard, and then force my voice out from my lips.

"Sorry, sir. Wrong apar-"

The world goes red. Everything hurts, everything. I'm vaguely aware of the door locking again, of a small female voice on the other side shouting, shouting at me, I think, but I can't be sure. Everything hurts so much. Everything is red and spinning. I hear myself let out a sort of whimper of pain, curled up into a ball on the floor. I am helpless, alone.

No.

The pain is blinding, unbearable. I force myself up, trying to analyze the situation. I've been sprayed with something, a poison of some sort. I have… _maybe two minutes until I black out_. I take off in a sprint. Back down the stairs, back out the door, down the street to a small payphone. I take it off of it's hook, pray that I can still manage to speak, and call the three-digit number.

"ZPD, what is your emergency?" Clawhauser's voice comes in on the other end.

"Clawhauser, it's Officer Wilde." I say. My voice sounds like I've been put through a steamroller. "I have been sprayed at Judy's apartment. I need help!" I shout, because I can already see the black at the corners of my vision.

"Nick, oh my, oh god. STAY THERE." Clawhauser orders. "We have officers coming your way." His voice is fading. "NICK!"

I curl back up into a ball. A song lyric, one of my earliest ones, flies through my mind.

 _This is the road to ruin. And I'm starting at the end._

It's the last thing I hear before I descend into darkness.

Judy

"Hopps, you better have a very good explanation for this." Chief Bogo says quietly. The emergency vehicles line the block, but by the time the police reached my apartments, I had already handcuffed Jack and was holding him at tazer-point.

"Sir, I had no idea that Jack had gotten possession of the fox repellant." I say softly. _Why him. Why Nick?_

"Why…" Bogo says, his voice very, very calm as the anger beneath it bubbles menacingly. "Would you even have fox repellant, when you work with a fox?"

"My father gave it to-!" I begin desperately.

"SAVE IT, HOPPS!" He roars. "Officer Wilde cares very deeply about you. I don't know why he was here today, but you picked the wrong rabbit to sleep around with. I'll update you on what happened now." He closes his eyes, polishes his glasses, and then looks at me. "Officer Wilde is currently in the ICU of the Zootopia hospital for poison control. The 'fox-repellant' that you had on your property was banned from production was actually a bottled version of an assassin strength poison. There's a chance that Wilde may never recover from this."

"You're joking." I feel like I'm about to cry.

"Allow me to emphasize something." Bogo leans in quietly, and there's something about his voice that I've never heard before. "That fox aggravates me to no end. I know, however, that he cares about you more than anything else in the world, including himself. I don't think you understand." He interrupts me as I start to protest. "That caring runs much, much deeper than friendship, and both of us know that." He gives me a long look. "I want to know why you've been putting so much distance between yourself and Wilde these past two weeks."

I stare at him. My mind is a howling tornado, I can't think straight. But the answer comes out anyways.

" _My parents."_ I whisper.

"Your parents." Bogo surveys my apartment. "I'm assuming they're one of the large portion of mammals who believe anything interspecies is wrong."

"Yessir."

He stares above my head for a long time, and then looks down at me.

"Then maybe you should think about whether they love you enough to overlook an interspecies relationship. Because I happen to think that Nicholas Wilde actually does." He turns towards the door, and on his way out, grabs the fox repellant which lies on the small stand. He raises it up, and crushes it in the air.

"I'll see you in two days, Hopps."

 **Authors Note: Sorry for the long wait, guys, but next chapter will be a long one. Expect more punk rock and more Nick Wilde talking to Judy. Also, a fair amount of fluff. But ayyy, whachagonnado.**

 **Thank you for reading me. I appreciate it more than you can understand.**

 **Now, a song recommendation (these two songs will appear next chapter):**

 **America's Suitehearts- Fall Out Boy**

 **Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes- Fall Out Boy**

 **Bohemian Rhapsody: Okay but if you haven't listened to this then what have you been doing with your life.**


	4. Chapter 4

Nick

 _The crowd is chanting my name._

 _This is what I live for._

 _I walk forward, feeling the support of the band behind me and the adrenaline of the crowd in front of me._

 _I know where I am. This is Zootopia's greatest music festival. Pawlapalooza._

 _I pick up my guitar in my hands, and turn back to my friends onstage._

 _I say a song. I don't know which one, I just know it's good. I turn to the crowd. I play a couple of notes, and the enormous field goes quiet. I pull my hand up, and play the opening line._

 _And the crowd explodes._

"He almost died." The gruff voice says. My lids are still shut, but the world around me has come into sharp and painful focus. I can feel the stiff hospital mattress under me, and although I look like I'm sleeping, I can feel my face.

I sort of wish I couldn't, honestly.

"Yes, but 'almost' doesn't count, now does it." A smooth voice replies. Probably a doctor. They're the only people who are calm under all forms of pressure.

"How long will he need off of work?" The gruff voice speaks again, and this time, I recognize it. _Why is the Chief here?_

"At least a week." The doctor says. "He can do most things fine, but super strenuous physical activities need to be avoided. His respiratory system will be shot for a good three days, but from there, he should be fine."

There's a pause. I dwell on what the doctor said. _Respiratory system shot for three days._ I won't be able to play a concert for three days. Honestly, that's probably for the best. Concerts are stressful, and as much as I love them, it's better for me to focus on keeping myself together at this point.

"You caught the mammal that used the fox repellant, right?" the doctor says, with unexpected viciousness.

"Yes. He's being interrogated by the officer who caught him right now."

"You mean that bunny who just left?" the doctor asks.

 _Wait, just left?!_ I'm tempted to sit up right then and there, but out of concern for getting some off time, I decide to delay my miraculous recovery. _She just left._ I wonder how long she had watched me. Probably long enough for her to get some sense that I almost died.

 _That must have sucked for her._ I mentally berate myself. If anything, I should at least try to keep myself alive for her. If she even cares about me anymore. I can't say I would be surprised if she just wanted to call the partnership. I've had too many people walk out on me. My dad left when I was six. My mom might still be alive, but she's deep in drugs- so she stopped talking to me years ago. I had a sister. Her name was Annabelle. She went to a really prestigious college- and then, when I dropped out of school to start hustling, she stopped speaking to me too. No full time college student wanted an affiliation with a known hustler. It was probably my darkest moment.

"Well, thank you, Doctor." Bogo says, and I hear the scuffling noise of a chair being scraped against the floor as it's pulled so Bogo can stand. "You've taken great care of my officer."

"That's my job." The Doctor smiles cordially. "I'll have him text you when he's released."

I hear the door open, and then close behind Bogo. I close my eyes and wait. I decide to keep my eyes closed for another little while, just to make it seem less suspicious. I settle on this plan, and just as I have settled into my pillows, a voice cuts through the darkness.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep, Mr. Wilde."

I wrench my eyes open. Standing at the end of my bed is an otter. It takes me a second to recognize him, and when I do, I'm stunned. His brown fur, glasses, and kindly expression throw me off my game.

"Mr. Otterton?!" I yelp.

"That's my name." he says. "You sound alright. That's good. You've been out for almost 25 hours, so I sort of expected that you'd be a little better when you finally woke up. That fox repellant is nasty stuff."

"Yessir, it is." I agree.

"So." He sits down in the chair that Bogo just left open, and looks me dead in the eye. "Let's talk about your tattoo."

I blink. Then, I make a horrified whine. _Oh no._

All of us have one. Each and every one of us. We have it in places that you wouldn't normally see unless you were looking for it. For me, it's just under my collar bone on my chest. A small, black logo of a fox paw holding a white hypodermic needle- the Warmbloods logo. And if that wasn't bad enough, each of us has a specific lyric tattooed around it. For mine, tattooed in red around the paw are the words " _These words are knives, and often leave scars."_ It was the lyric that held the most significance at the time that we got them.

"You a fan of the Warmbloods?" he asks.

I breathe out a silent sigh of relief. "Yes, I am, doc."

"Good for you, son." He smiles. "I was an original fan, you know."

"Come again?" I say, surprised.

He smiles a wide, placid smile, and pulls up the right sleeve of his pristine white coat. On the shoulder is a blue image of a fox mask, with a simple letter "W" underneath.

My breath catches. I remember when we had that logo. We were just starting out. It's still on the inside of my acoustic guitar. I will sometimes stare at it. It reminds me of a time when we played for some of our most dedicated fans.

"Wow." I say. He smiles, and taps something above the tattoo. I look. It's a number.

 _244_.

The original 300 were a band of extreme hardcore fans that prided themselves on keeping the identities of the band a secret. They were so hardcore they had their numbers written on their right sleeves. That way, the band members could understand that they wouldn't let anyone know who they were.

"Are you…" I begin.

He winks. "When are you guys playing next?" he murmurs.

"The 24th." I say, in shock. "At a stage in City Center."

"I'll be there." He says. "It's been a while since I've seen you guys play."

"To be fair, we haven't played in a while."

"Yes, that is true." He gives me a sidelong glance, and then speaks. "Time to check you out, I think. Get your clothes, put them on. I would stay at home for a while. Don't push yourself- you need to be ready for that concert, you hear me?"

"Yes I do, loud and clear, Mr. Ottert-."

"Shut it. Put your clothes on." He chuckles.

The check-out process takes place over the course of about an hour, and suddenly, I'm out on the street outside the hospital, with just the clothes on my back and the feeling of the oxygen tank I'm going to need while sleeping for the next two days. I'm pulling it around in a cart behind me. I wander around for a little bit, feeling a little lost. Finally, I decide to catch the bus. I've got no choice other than to go home at this point.

No one looks at me weird, so I sit at the back of the bus. I'm next to a little old lady, who stares at me for a very long time, and then shifts a seat over from me. I sigh, and look down at the floor. For someone who slept for 25 hours, I'm surprisingly tired.

I arrive outside my apartment after an hour-long bus ride in which I did nothing but add to the song I started at the last concert. It's coming together, and I might be able to finish it before the next concert. Maybe we can play it. That would be great. I've still got to sound test it, though, and that will require my stuff at home. I smile. I'll play the guitar when I get in.

Getting up the stairs proves to be a surprisingly difficult task. I try at least fifteen different ways to get the oxygen tank up the stairs. None of them work, until I realize that if I make two trips, one to pull the tank and the other to get the cart, I can get them both. The tank almost crushes me under its weight.

"Isn't this full of air?" I gasp, arriving at the top, the container perched precariously between my two hands. "Why- is- it-so- damn- _heavy?!"_ I groan, and slowly lower it back down onto the cart.

I wheel it down my hallway and turn towards the door, pulling my keys from my pocket.

"Nick." The voice is small, and for a second, I'm sure I've imagined it.

"Carrots." I say slowly, turning. The bunny stands behind me, her eyes locked on the cart I'm wheeling behind me. Her violet eyes are puffy and red.

"Do you have to…" she trails off.

"Oh, this?" I say, gently. "Only for a few days, and then-!"

I never get that last part out. She walks forward and wraps her arms around me, pulling me in gently.

" _I'm so, so sorry."_ she whispers. " _I never- I would never have d- please…"_ she sobs.

"Carrots, carrots!" I say softly, stunned. "You can't possibly think that I blame you for this."

"Not even a little?" She says quietly, not moving.

"Okay, maybe a little." I admit. "But that's just, you know, me being a fox."

"I love you."

I stand stock still. Did I just hear that correctly? She doesn't mean that. No one means that. Love is bullshit. Better play it off.

"Fluff, you know what I think about love." I say, my snark concealing any trace of my true feelings.

"Nick, shut up for five seconds." She murmurs, and pulls out of the hug, reaching out and taking my face in her hands. "I know how hard these past months have been for you."

"Wha…?"

"Watching me go out with rabbit after rabbit, and wondering if you were the only one who…" she trails off, and I can see her blush straight through her fur.

"So, am I not the only one?" I blurt, and take her face in my hands. "Judy, I know what your, ah, _situation_ is with your parents, so I get where you were going with those bunnies."

"That doesn't mean I can act like a whore!" She shouts, looking anguished. "I can't just go along with my parent's wishes. Look, the last time I broke the norm, I became a police officer, and that was the best thing that ever happened to me. I got to meet you."

" _I'm not worthy of a minute of your time…"_ I'm not aware I've sung the lyric until I do.

She covers her mouth, stepping back. "That's…"

"Not what you think it is?" I say, half joking.

" _I really wish it was only me and you."_ she sings.

" _I'm jealous of everybody in the room."_ I sing back, and walk towards her, putting my hands on her small, trembling shoulders.

"Nick." She whispers. "People are going to hate us."

"So long as it's not you." I say, softly. "If I've got you on my side, then fuck everyone else."

She smiles, and it's a brave smile, a very Judy smile, a smile that makes you want to cry and scream a battle cry at the same time because it's so beautiful and tragic. She closes her eyes, leans in, and kisses me. Very gently. It isn't like the dark hookups, the ugly dates, and the drunk make out sessions. This is real, this is too real. I can feel every single bit; every nerve on my body is on fire.

She pulls back, and stares at me. "Um…"

"Holy shit." I say.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it." She laughs. There's a pause.

"Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"You sing for the Warmbloods, right?" she asks, and her eyes narrow.

"Yep. Took you long enough." I say dryly, because I don't care about her knowing. I'm glad she knows.

"Sing for me." she says quietly.

I smile. "Fair enough." I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and stop.

"Wait, come inside first." I say. I open the door, and let her into the apartment. I drop the tank and walk quickly into my room, grab my acoustic guitar, and begin to play.

" _Why can you read me like no one else?_

_I hide these words, but I'm coming out._

 _I wish I'd kept them between my tongue._

 _I hide behind these words,_

 _But I'm coming out."_

 **A/N: So I lied about the long chapter. Suck it up. Leave a comment, PM me if you like it. The song that Nick and Judy sing to each other is called "First Date" by Blink-182, and the end song is called "It's not a side effect of the cocaine, I'm thinking it must be love" by Fall Out Boy**

 **ty for reading, as always.**


	5. Chapter 5

Nick

The story comes out in small bursts. I can't exactly get it all out at once; it's just too painful and large. But it comes, slowly and delicately.

She wanted to know from the moment I let her into my apartment, but she understood when I couldn't. It's been five days now, and slowly, piece by piece, I've told her most of it. The first thing I told her was about my sister. She understood. I was honestly surprised until she told me just how many siblings she had. Then, it was hard to get that image out of my head. _275 siblings, holy crap._ I was skeptical until she told me that she could show me pictures of each and every one of them. I backed down pretty quickly after that.

Her parents don't know yet, they only know about how Jack (my assailant) was put in jail for using the fox repellant that they gave her. Of course, upon hearing that they gave her the repellant, I didn't exactly jump for joy. We agreed that we probably wouldn't be meeting her parents anytime soon.

I've been recuperating, slowly, and getting ready for the second official date of the tour. We'll be playing the Precinct One Fountain Stage, where I have fond memories of Gazelle playing shortly after my first day on the force. From what's been said on the news, tickets are going at upwards of seven times their face value in certain markets. Which means that I, with all my business savvy, should hike the face value of the tickets significantly. Of course, I'm not. It's about the music, not the money.

I finished my song that I wrote about Bogo three days ago. I played it for Judy, and she loved it. It also probably helped that I did it in full gear, with the mask and full Warmblood outfit. It made the whole scenario a bit more real. I've been working with Finnick and Henry over text to determine the final set list. Finnick has made sure that tonight's show will be absolutely filled with pyrotechnics and light displays. Thus, we decided to make the set list a little more energetic, starting out with two of our major hits ( _Foxes of Suburbia_ , _I Write Sins not Mammalities)_ , followed by three of our most prolific songs, or whatever we all agreed fit the mood of the concert. One of these songs I haven't told Judy about, because I want to surprise her. It's going to be unbelievable. We'll end with _Save Rock and Mole_ and hopefully that'll be all I need to play. It's a short list, but I'm still on injured reserve as far as singing goes, so we figured we'd play a fast set for those people who are willing to come out. The band opening for us is called _PR3D T3 Mii_ , and they're some sort of electro-pop group that Judy absolutely despises. Luckily for her, she'll be backstage, watching us play.

Judy is, without a doubt, the best thing that's happened to me this week. I think I would have accidentally killed myself five times if she hadn't been around to help me out with basic tasks around the apartment. I've only been living with this rabbit for five days, and I can already see it's going to end up being one of the best decisions in my life. Sue me. I'm an optimist.

I lean against one end of the bed, packing up my guitars and picks, Judy watches me from the door.

"This is honestly way more boring than I would have thought." She says, tapping her foot impatiently against the floor.

"This is how it goes." I say with a sly grin. "I pack my stuff up, become a rock star for six hours, and then come home and watch shitty nighttime television."

"You have the most beautiful vocabulary." She says wryly.

"Only because I've got the most beautiful-!" I begin, a grin spreading across my face. She leaps across the room in two bounds and grabs my shirt forcibly, latching her legs around my waist and putting her forehead to mine so we're eye to eye.

"Nicholas Piberius Wilde." She whispers calmly. "Do not say those things and expect me not to start crying."

"You bunnies, so emotional." I say, my face hot. I lean in and kiss her gently. This has become one of my favorite parts of the day. Of course, if I tell her that, I'll get a roundhouse kick to the jaw.

I pick both of my guitars up on my back, careful not to let the other items which I've packed become visible.

"You ready?" I ask.

"You know it." She smiles.

I pause, feeling that heavy weight on my shoulders, and open my mouth one more time.

"Judy, I-."

"Stop." She interrupts. "What are you about to say?"

"Umm…" I trail off.

"Does it have something to do with how this relationship is going to be hard, and how you care about me, and how I don't have to do this if I don't want?"

I cough. "Yeah."

"Well guess what." she walks forward again, and smiles up at me. "You're a sweet, kind fox, and I care about you more than I could ever describe. I want to do this. I don't care what other people think, and I'm so unbelievably glad that I came to that realization."

I feel myself choking up. I try to think of something to say, anything. But no sound comes out. Judy gives a small, gentle smile, and pulls on my sleeve.

"Come on, you goof." She says. "I'll drive."

Judy

I watch, nervously, from a small distance. This is no longer boring, its nerve wracking. Even from here, through thick walls and with only a small opening onto the stage, I can hear the screams of the crowd as the opening band plays. I'm watching Nick and his group members at the far end, near the stage. They're huddled in a small group. Each and every member is masked, and they all have their instruments. Finnick is perched on a stepstool to allow easier access to the conversation. I only hear snatches of conversation.

 _"-dangerous, honestly, that much fir-"_

 _"-you don't seriously believe-"_

 _"-you've got the banners ready, right-?"_

Nick glances over at me, and gives me a goofy smile and a thumbs up. I have to stop myself from giggling. I was pretty nervous on the way over here as well. Despite what I say, I'm terrified of what could happen to Nick and I because of who we are. But the Warmbloods all seem okay with it. Everyone introduced themselves to me, and shook my paw. James had to stoop down a little (okay, a lot) to do it, but other that, it went off okay. Henry congratulated Nick for finding me. I had to stop myself from grinning there, too.

" _THANK YOU! GOOD NIGHT!"_ comes a voice from offstage.

"Alright, let's get ready to go." Nick says. The four adjust their masks, and grab their instruments. Nick walks over to me, and wraps me in a tight hug.

"Nick?" I ask.

"Don't question it." He says lightly. "I just needed it. Let's do this."

The other three are waiting for him at the door to the stage. He walks over to them, raises a hand to me, and then they're onstage. I wait for a good five seconds before I run over to the small opening to watch. The stage is in total darkness, so I can't see what's going on. I wait. Time seems to slow to a crawl, everything moving in slow motion. And then the lights come up. The crowd's roar is deafening. Onstage, the four members are each wrapped in a flag. Slowly, two of them stand. One is short, much shorter than any of the others, and looks even more dwarfed when compared to the enormous stage riggings. The other is red, and I see his emerald eyes glint in the lights. The two of them walk to their posts. Slowly, the red fox walks to the microphone, looking out over something I can't see, and slowly raises the flag that he's been wrapped in so that it's visible to the crowd. I let out a little scream. It's a white flag, with black words emblazoned on it, so bold and clear they're impossible to miss.

 _YOU ARE WHAT YOU LOVE_

 _NOT WHO LOVES YOU_

" _IN THIS CASE!"_ the fox screams " _I GUESS I'M MUSIC!"_

The crowd goes hysterical. I can feel the walls shaking, and I watch him with a kind of awe.

" _ZOOOOOOTOPIA!"_ the short fox says into the microphone near his drum set. The crowd screams back. I notice the other two members have taken their spots. " _HELL YEAH!"_

" _This first song goes out to all the people who've been beaten down."_ The lion roars. " _This is called: FOXES OF SUBURBIA!"_

The crowd screams, and Nick walks up to the mic and plays three strong chords. They'd be recognizable anywhere. The opening to one of the band's greatest hits- Foxes from Suburbia. This particular song was unconventional at the time because the drummer sang with the lead singer. And now, I finally see why.

" _We're the sons of rage and love!"_ Nick and Finnick sing together. " _We're foxes from suburbia- con men of, none of the above, on a steady diet ooofff!"_ Three more chords. " _Hustling and prejudice! No one ever caught onto our crimes or as, far as we can tell- GO!"_ Nick screams at the crowd, and they complete the line.

"NOT THE ONES WE GOT AWAY WITH!" I sing loudly, and immediately clap a hand to my mouth. Damn, they're good.

" _And there's nothing wrong with me!"_ Finnick shouts. Nick responds immediately, playing as fast as he can.

" _This is how I'm supposed to bee-ee!"_

" _In a land of make-believe!"_ Finnick roars as he pounds the drums.

" _THEY DON'T BELIEVE IN MEEE-EE!"_ they sing together, and Nick bounces onto a platform on the stage and hits the next chords.

The crowd is bouncing, a mob of screaming mammals. I stare, and something Nick said to me flickers through my head.

" _I love group mentality. So long as you can work it for you, it's about the best thing you could hope for."_

I see now, where he's coming from. I watch him, bouncing around the stage, hitting chords, doing slides, and acting like a kit in a candy store, and a smile plays across my face.

 _My parents are really going to kill me._

 _Dumb fox._

 _No._

 _MY dumb fox._

Nick

I feel the urge to pant, but that's just something you have to avoid as a singer. Just try not to overheat but have fun anyways. It's a very difficult thing to actually do, but I try.

The crowd has been awesome, and I can't actually believe that this is real. It all just seems so false, so strange. Night has fallen completely now, and I see my own masked snout in the gigantic screens on all sides of the stage.

"So." I speak into the microphone. "It has been awesome to be here with you guys. That wolf who's been surfing on top of the crowd this whole concert is my idol. Seriously though, I think we'll do one more. This is SAVE ROCK AND MOLE, with special guest artist GAZELLE!"

The crowd goes nuts as Gazelle strides gracefully onstage, accompanied by multiple tigers. She gives me a hug, and I hear the crowd going nuts behind me. I grin. I can only imagine that Judy is having a freak out right now.

"Let's do this!" I say, and raise my hands. "1,2,3,4!"

The beat begins to hit, and I feel it in my chest, and in my hands.

 _Boom ba-doom CLAP._

 _Bah-dum bah-dum boom CLAP._

The piano comes in, and I wait for my line.

" _I need more dreams, and less life."_ I croon into the mic. " _I need that dark in a little more light."_

" _I cry tears you'll never see."_ Comes a ghostly female voice from beside me, and I smile as the crowd screams.

" _So FUCK YOU! You can go cry me an ocean, and leave me be."_ I sing. I breathe in, and then say the line I know they're waiting to hear. _"You are what you love…"_ I hold the microphone out to them and let them finish it.

" _NOT WHO LOVES YOU!"_

" _In a world full of the word yes, I'm here to screeeeeeeaaaaaaaammmmmmm!"_ I roar.

" _No, no!"_ Gazelle and I sing together. _"Wherever I go!"_

" _Trouble seems to follow."_ She sings, looking at me.

I respond with a smile. _"I only plugged in to save Rock and Roll!"_

" _No! No!"_ the others shout. _"Where ever I go, go! Trouble seems to follow! I only plugged in to-!"_

" _Save rock and roll!"_ we complete together, and I let the noise of the crowd wash over me.

 **A/N: ANOTHER CHAPTER, Woot! Thank you so so so so so so much for reading. Next chapter will be coming out sooner, since it's the weekend!**


	6. Chapter 6

Nick

The screaming match in the other room has gone on for almost thirty minutes now, and I'm debating whether or not to stop it. To some degree, it's almost entertaining, until I realize that most of the things being said in there are because of me. Then it becomes a solemn chore to listen, and to continue to reason that I should do as I was told by Judy when the MuzzleTime first came through- _stay here and don't do anything_.

It's been three weeks since the last official concert and in that time we have played two venues unofficially. Hype for the new album is rising steadily among the fans, with members of the original 300 making sure that our names and faces aren't released to the press. I left Chief Bogo a couple of tickets to a show that we played two nights ago, and was pleased when I saw him in the crowd with a female buffalo. At least the Chief knows how to get down. I joked about why he didn't take Clawhauser the next day in the station and I almost got murdered for it. Just when life started to pick up, too.

This MuzzleTime call isn't entirely unexpected, of course. At my "official" job (it's also my favorite because I get to ride around with Judy all day, but she would get all mushy if she heard me say that) things have picked up, so she and I have been seen on more T.V. screens and press conferences than I would like to admit. Still, no one suspects any of the Warmblood's identities. I'm honestly a bit surprised, and relieved as well. The next official concert is the benefit concert hosted by the city in the smack center of the Rainforest District. Awe're going to actually play a couple of songs from the new album there, and without revealing too much, I'm pretty confident about how they'll go over.

The band has become a hotter and hotter topic in terms of the issues around interspecies relationships. Obviously, this topic is near and dear to my heart, and if it wasn't, I probably wouldn't be with a rabbit. Either way, our unfailing support of interspecies relationships (YOU ARE WHAT YOU LOVE/NOT WHO LOVES YOU) has sparked massive protests from the rednecks that are too blind to see that love comes in all forms. There was a huge anti-species rally the night before the unofficial concert two days ago. I talked about it onstage, and because of my vocabulary, I only had to use one digit of my right paw to describe what I thought of the anti-interspecies mammals. Of course, this got massive press attention. I can't say I expected any less.

The door slams, ripping me from the place I was in. My paws slide absentmindedly across the guitar fingerboard, loosely playing the chords to something which resembles the song "Lake Miceigan." I love that song, but we almost never get to play it in concert because it's such an early piece of work.

Judy stand in front of me, fuming.

"Everything alright?" I ask. "You look like you did that time I tried to do your laundry when you were sick."

"My- _god damn-_ parents!" she growls, storming up to me. She grabs my collar and pulls me into a kiss. She savors it for a just a second, I can feel it, and then pulls away. "That one's just to spite them."

"Carrots, you can't have expected it to go well when you told them you were dating a fox." I say gently.

"I expected them to at least RESPECT MY DECISION!" she shouts, tears at the corners of her violet eyes. "They- they can't- they never have-!"

I sweep her into a tight hug. "Shhhh." I whisper.

"Nick, they're really angry." She whispers.

"You haven't done anything wrong." I say softly, rubbing the tips of her ears. "You haven't- I'm the king of doing bad stuff, I'd tell you if you'd done something wrong."

"Thank you."

"It's alright, Carrots. Want me to sing you a song?"

"Yes, please." She wipes her eyes, and pulls back from my embrace to sit on the couch. I grab the guitar from where it lies and strap it on. I pause for a second, trying to figure out what to play. I settle on a song I wrote but have never actually played. It's called "No One Puts Baby in a Corner."

I strum it a couple of times, trying to get the chord just right. I find it, and strum it one last time to confirm. I breathe in, and start to play.

" _Drink down the gin and keroseee-ne!"_ MY mind flickers with all my memories of Judy, the first time I met her, the time we got locked in that hospital, and it just makes the song feel more important. " _And come spit off bridges with me!"_

" _Just to keep us warm!"_ I remember the time she brought me donuts after a long day at the academy. _"Light a match to leave me-ee-e be!"_

" _I keep my jealousy close, 'cuz it's al mine. And if you say this makes you happy then I'm not the only one… lie-ie-ie-ohhhh-ing."_

I hit the next two chords hard, accenting both of them. " _Keep quiet! Nothing comes as easy as you- can I lay-"_ breath. " _in your bed-"_ pause. " _all day? I'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake. The paw behind this pen relives a failure every day."_

Her eyes are closed, and she's swaying gently as I sing. She doesn't know the lyrics, but the whole dong is fairly repetitive. She gets the melody fairly quickly. I keep singing, focused on her, watching the music change her expressions as I play.

When I first became a con man, I promised myself I wouldn't believe in anything. And I didn't, with one exception. I never forgot the power of music. I was probably kept sane and stable for all these years because of music, and it's a fact I keep with me to this day.

" _Keep quiet, nothing comes as easy as you, can I lay in your bed all day, I'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake. The paw behind this pen relives a failure every day."_ I finish, and look at her nervously. She opens her eyes.

"When did you write that?" she says.

"I was 25." I say. "I had just gotten in a police chase and I wrote it because I didn't believe that anything could save me except for music."

"Do you still believe that?" she asks.

I look at her. Her long ears, tipped with black, her short, beautiful stature, and her delicate face. "I met you." I say simply.

She gives me a long look. I see many emotions whirling past in her eyes, too fast for me to catch. Instead, she wraps her arms around me, and pulls me in close.

"I love you." she whispers, her ears quivering.

I stand silent. Every time I hear that, even though I hear it more often now, I'm struck dumb. But at least now, I know what my honest answer is.

"I love you too, fluff."

We stay like that for a long, long time. And I'm okay with it. This is paradise found. If I need to remain still to bask in it, that's a penalty I'll take gladly.

Finnick

When I hear pounding on the outside of my van, I decide I'll try out the shotgun if it's anyone except Nick or James. I still might shoot Henry, since he owes me money, but I'll take his guitar playing into consideration.

Hell, who am I kidding? I probably couldn't lift a shotgun to Henry's head level unless I had some sort of a lever and auto-aiming machine. I'm less than three feet tall, and most of that height is my ears, and that's less than intimidating.

"Shhuuuuuuudup!" I roar, and throw the doors to the van open with a crash. "Do you have any IDEA what fuc-!" I stop short. Nick stands. There's a bruise on his cheek and his eyes are dull. He's in shock.

"Hey, Nick." I say. "Sorry 'bout that, sorta overreacted."

"It's fine." He says.

"Umm." I pause, unsure. Something's wrong, clearly. "What's up…?" I trail off, hoping I've said the right thing.

"They took her." he says plainly. I'm about to ask who "she" is, before I remember that bunny who's so dear and near to him. She's nice, don't get me wrong, and I'm cool with interspecies stuff, but straight-up cops just throw me off my game. I can deal with Nick because he's still only a partial member of the fuzz.

"Judy?" I ask, as I remember her name. "Who took her?"

"Her family." Nick says. "A couple of rabbits were at the door, and I opened it, and- and-and-."

"You want a beer?" A voice calls from behind Nick. We both look for the source of it, and find a honey badger walking towards us, his gray eyes full of concern.

"Yes." Nick says with a gulp. Shit. This really is bad. Nick never drinks beer- it's either whisky, wine, or nothing. He only drinks beer when he thinks it'll help him forget something.

"Henry, if you give this fox anything to drink, I will remove your teeth." I shout. Henry nods, understanding, and dumps the beer into a small plant nearby.

"Alright, start from the beginning." I order, as Henry helps Nick sit down on a spare barrel. "What the hell happened?"

Slowly, the story comes out, and honestly, I know from the beginning it's not going to be good. He explains how she had a bad fight with her parents, and I agree with her rage. They should respect her decisions, but they think they're looking out for her. He comforted her, and they agreed that they didn't need the opinions of those two bunnies to be happy. That had been three days ago. Only about an hour ago, they had been watching an old version of "Mouse Almighty" when the doorbell had rung. Nick had answered it, had been punched and kicked by the eight rabbits on the other side. He'd been tranquilized while on the ground, and had been able to watch as Judy was led away out of the apartment with only a small bag.

"Those fuckers." Henry murmurs. He's sipping a bottle of whisky that he brought from the bar, and is unrelentingly firm in not giving Nick any.

"Yeah, that's about what I think." I say. "They were her family, I suppose?"

"That's about all I know for sure." Nick says quietly, rubbing his head. His eyes are still dull. I'm growing steadily more concerned. This isn't like Nick at all.

"What should we do?" I ask, but the question practically answers itself. _Nothing._ We can't do anything, and it's eating Nick alive. Just watching Nick kill himself because he can't do anything is tearing me apart too. It was Nick who first suggested that he and I should make a band. I was skeptical at the time, but now we've risen. Hindsight is 20/20, and I know that the Warmbloods were the best thing to ever happen to me. Now that the band is about to finally, officially disband, I'm okay with it. I've got a girlfriend, I've got a pretty steady source of cash, not mentioning the fact that I could live off of my Warmblood concert money for the next 50-60 years. I just want to savor it while it lasts, and this is going to ruin the whole thing.

"Screw this." I bark, sharply. Nick looks up, questioningly.

"Finnick?" he asks.

I ignore him. "Henry, call James. Tell him to take a couple of sick days- we're going on a road trip."

Henry doesn't get it at first, but I see his face light up as he understands, and he hurries around back into the bar.

"Finnick." Nick looks concerned, all dullness gone from his eyes now, "You can't seriously be thinking about taking the band to _Bunnyburrow?!_ It's got wonderful rabbits, but it's got a higher concentration of people who carry fox repellant than I want to see in a day."

"Nick, you're a nice guy, but seriously, shut up." I say kindly. "You need to get this rabbit chick back, and we're here to help. We don't have another official concert for what, two, three weeks? We'll be fine."

"The crowds will be shit!" Nick shouts. "They may actually boo us offstage!"

"So what?!" This is Henry. "We need to play horrible crowds once in a while, Nick. It gets us out of our comfort zone, and we need that occasionally." He turns to me. "James is in, says he'll be here at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow morning."

"You're all insane!" Nick laughs.

"Guilty." Henry shrugs.

"Yeah, Nick, you've played with us long enough that you should know that." I say. "You can stay with me tonight. We'll all be sleeping in the van tomorrow anyways."

"Oh-ho!" Henry exclaims. "We really are doing it the old fashioned way! Back when we had no money and all lived inside of your-!"

"Henry, literally everything you're saying right now I can make a sex joke out of."

"This is why we don't give you a microphone, Finnick."

"If I wanted a microphone, I could just use the one that's stuck up your a-!"

"Shut it!" Nick roars, and both of us go quiet. "Thank you guys, both of you. I really shouldn't be allowed to have friends who are this considerate."

"Yeah, but we're The Warmbloods." Henry winks. "When have we ever followed the rules?"

Judy

"Jude, just calm down." My father looks anxious, which is funny, considering how blatantly he ignored my feelings. I can feel the rage building up inside of me like a feral beast. I feel as though I've just eaten a night howler- I'm about to go savage.

"Why should I, Dad?" I ask mockingly. "Because I'm so grateful that you've taken me from my home, my boyfriend, and my dream job?! Yeah, thanks for all of that, I'll calm down now."

I'm in my childhood room. The walls are plastered with ZPD posters and old reports. I'm only now beginning to notice that none of them feature a predator. This only serves to make me angrier.

"Dad, has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't want to live by what you think I want to live by?" I ask, trying and failing to hide my anger.

"What, you want to marry a predator and get eaten?!" My father's face is heating up, now. "Look what that Gideon Grey did to you when you were a kid!"

I unconsciously move my hands to my face, placing them over the claw marks. Nick found those about a week ago. He was angry at himself once he found them, and I'd had to explain to him that Gideon Grey is a nice, normal mammal now.

"That doesn't mean that all foxes automatically are like that!"

"You don't understand." My father is shaking his head.

"Yeah, I don't!" I shout at him. I bite my tongue, feeling as though I'm about to scream. "What are you going to do about my job?"

"Your mother called the chief, putting you on an extended leave of absence. He was very receptive, seemed to think you never took time off and was glad you were spending it with your family."

I stare at him. I want to hate him. I want to be able to scream, to kick and run out of this house.

But he's my father.

I can't hate him because he honestly thinks he's doing what is best for me. I know it's wrong, but he doesn't. They care about me too much to take any chances, and they'd rather be safe than sorry, even if it hurts other people who I love.

"Dad…" I plead. _Please reconsider. Please._

"You're going to be here until you rethink your decisions." My father says. "I'm sorry, Judy. I'll see you at dinner." He shuts the door, and I hear the key turn in the lock. I rush to my bed and throw myself onto it, sobbing. More than anything right now, I want Nick. I want to hear his joking voice and smell his chocolate-and-smoke breath and have him find me a way out of this.

My phone buzzes.

I blink. I have Nick's phone number, but my parents made sure to block it before they gave it to me. So who is it? I grab it from my bedside table and unlock it. Apparently, I've missed more than one text.

 **Chief Bogo: Hopps, thank you for taking a break. None of us are super-mammal work machines, even you. I'm glad you're doing this.**

 **Chief Bogo: Hopps, Wilde has just told me the situation. I rescind my previous text. I need you at work. Now.**

 **Chief Bogo: Wilde has informed me that it may actually take a S.W.A.T. team to remove you from your parent's grasp.**

 **Chief Bogo: I will give this a week. If you are not back here in one week, I am sending officers to come and get you.**

 **Chief Bogo: Hopps, whatever you do, DO NOT come back having done police work of ANY KIND. I CANNOT LOSE THIS BET TO CLAWHAUSER.**

 _So Nick knows, then_. I flip over onto my back and stare blankly at the ceiling. _I hope he doesn't blame me._

 _Quit being sorry for yourself._ It's a strong voice, coming from the deepest part of my mind. _You're stuck here for at least a week. The best thing to do is going to be to try to win them over._

 _Easier said than done._

Nick

 _Do you have the time_

 _To listen to me whine_

 _About nothing and everything at once_

 _I am one of those_

 _Melodramatic fools_

 _Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it._

"What next." I hum to myself. I sit shotgun in Finnick's van, the sun going down, and we're driving back to his place to sleep. In the morning, we're going to load up the van and hit the road for Bunnyburrow. I'm not exactly anticipating it, but at the same time, it's probably the only way this can happen. I have to get her back, or I risk my own personal health and well-being.

"Writing a new song?" Finnick asks, his eyes locked on the road.

"Yep." I say.

"Am I gonna like it?"

"Probably. You liked _Foxes of Suburbia_ , and this is in that same style."

Finnick laughs, and continues to drive along in silence. Finally, he breaks it. "I'm gonna miss those songs."

"Everyone is." I agree. "Everyone is going to miss it, but we need to do this. We need to live normal lives."

"There's no going back." Finnick says, so quietly I barely hear him. "I'm not sure anyone's going to be able to go back to the way things were before this. Before the music."

"I suppose so." I say. We drive the rest of the way in silence, me still working through the lyrics. It's giving me trouble though, and I put it away once we reach Finnick's place.

I stay up until almost 11 o'clock that night, working until I have the lyrics all completely done. When I finally fall asleep on the couch, I do it with song lyrics floating through my brain.

 _It all keeps adding up._

 _I think I'm cracking up._

 _Am I just paranoid?_

 _Or am I just stoned?_


	7. Chapter 7

Nick

"So, I'm assuming we don't have a set list for tonight?" James shouts over the roar of the van as it trundles along the road into the suburbs outside of Bunnyburrow. We have been driving for a while now, and no topic even vaguely relevant has come up thus far. Was about to raise the subject myself, but James is a lion through and through.

"You're shitting me." Finnick shouts, and slams the throttle even harder, sending the van flying even faster. "This is sort of a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, James. You're killing my vibe!"

"It's sort of important, you know!" James shouts. "What's the plan for today, anyway?"

"Basically?" I respond. James nods. "We get in, we find somewhere to play, we play it, and we trundle up and look for a place to stay. Repeat as many times as we feel like it."

"Just like old times." James mumbles. I laugh.

"Only difference is, I won't be actively drunk onstage!" Henry says from the shotgun. James grins, revealing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth.

"Seriously though, we only have like four days to do this." I say dubiously. "Even if we play two venues a day, it's unlikely we'll get booked anywhere important in Bunnyburrow."

"We're preds." James shrugs. "We'd never get booked anyhow."

"You can't seriously be considering that all the bunnies here are that prejudiced." Henry murmurs.

"I've had bad experiences with this area." James says.

"I guess we'll just have to turn them to our side with music, won't we?!" Finnick shouts. The two sigh, and nod their heads. I smirk. Finnick is great when it comes to making completely insane ideas sound perfectly rational. I remember the time he proposed to create a Popsicle hustling business. Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded insane but from him, I bought into it instantly.

"I have an idea." James says suddenly. I stare at him. I bite back the violent urge to make a snarky comment, and decide instead to ask what his idea is.

"We could play old music." He says. There's a pause, and then he goes on hurriedly. "I mean, like _old_ music. We could play the music from 'Champagne for Two.'"

"Holy shit, do I even remember that music?" I say, almost entirely to myself.

"I remember most of it." Henry says earnestly.

"We could play a really short set list of old music, and then end with one of our big hits." James continues, looking encouraged by this reaction. "And…"

I stare at him. Finnick reaches behind the driver's seat and gestures for him to continue.

"Maybe we could play without the masks?" James said. "No one here knows who we are anyways, and if we play really old music, there's almost no chance that we'll be recognized."

The van's rumbling covers up what could have been an almost perfect silence. I haven't played a show without a mask on in years. The very thought of doing so makes me wonder if James is out of his mind. But then again, we're going to be playing for possibly the worst crowds in known history. The less threatening we look, the better.

"I like it." I say. Henry nods, and Finnick gives the thumbs up. James swells slightly.

"You know, for a lion, you lack confidence in yourself." I murmur to him. He gives a slight smile.

"If you came from where I came from, Wilde, you'd learn to keep to yourself."

We come into a small bar just outside of Bunnyburrow, and we get our first real stroke of luck. The owner of the bar is a grizzled old timber wolf. I approach him, followed by the others.

"How're you doing?" I ask, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

"Whaddya want?" He says gruffly, walking over to us.

"Well, this is my band. I was wondering if we could play here tonight." I explain. "We could play for as long as you wanted, but-."

"I already have an act booked for tonight." He says, and I detect a note of sympathy in his voice. "Sorry, mate."

"Are you sure there isn't anywhere we can play?" Finnick says. James has given him a boost so he can look the wolf straight in the eyes. He sighs, massages his temples, and then looks up.

"There's a stage outside, but the acoustics are shit and it's going to rain. The patio is covered, which means you might get decent turnout, but you'd have to bring your own equipment, and I could only give you about an hour's worth of playtime, and I'm not sure you'd…"

"We'll take it." I say firmly. "Thank you. When do you want us here?"

"7 o'clock, and not a minute later." He mutters, and turns away. "What's your band name?"

"Predatory Impulse."

He turns back to us slowly.

"You know that you might not get a great reaction here, with that kind of name." He's almost noncommittal when he says this. I realize with a start that he sort of knows what he might be getting into here. He has no idea of the scale, but he has a general idea of what might go down tonight.

"Yes, we do." Henry says quietly. "Thank you for letting us play."

Together, the four of us turn back towards the van. I look from Henry to James to Finnick, and sum the whole thing up.

"Let's do this."

It takes over an hour and a half for us to set everything up. We've brought enough materials to play twenty shows identical to this one, but it's important that we kick off this impromptu tour with a bang, so everything has to be set up correctly and then checked before we walk onstage. As I walk across the small wooden stage to check the various fog machines, strobe lights and pyrotechnic items and see the clouds which are brewing ominously overhead, I can only think one thing.

 _This is either going to go very well or very badly._

The time ticks by, and I find myself in the van's shotgun seat attempting to finalize a set list based entirely on what everyone thinks they remember. Finally, we decide to play only a five item set, which is quite short. However, the faster we can get off, the faster we can get into the van and on the road towards deeper Bunnyburrow. I've already started writing what I'll say to Judy's parents when I meet them, because that time is drawing very close. I check the time on the van's clock. 6:55. Five minutes until we go onstage. I look down at the small piece of crumpled yellow paper on which I've written the list.

Song One: Every Stone

Song Two: Girl Harbor

Song Three: Drum Solo by Finnick/Intro to Song 4

Song Four: St. Nicky

Song Five: Disloyal Soldiers of the Water Buffalo

I glance down at the list, and grimace. Then, I open the door of the van next to me and walk out. It's time to play.

I find the others waiting for me. All carry their masks and look at me expectantly as I walk towards them. I glance over. The patio is about half full. This reminds me of the old crowds we used to play in more ways than one. There are different species, but the majority of them mammals on the patio right now are rabbits. They're drinking, smoking and laughing. I turn to my band and nod, and together, we walk onstage.

I get up to the mic, and check to make sure that I'm plugged in. I look up, and feel the lights that we hooked up turn on. This turns some heads, but most stay hypnotized by the alcohol in front of them.

"Hello, everyone!" I say, and I hear my voice echo. "I'm Nick, and we are here to play for you tonight."

No one turns, and everything on the patio goes on as normal. I gulp, and then go on.

"…rrrright, then. This song is called 'Every Stone.'"

 **(AN: watch?v=oirOjs0xl9o is the link)**

I step back, and begin to play the opening line. I feel the music around me; feel as though I could drown in it. One measure, two measures, and then I hear the rest of the band come in. I feel every note pulse through my blood like fire or alcohol, and I drink it down. The band drops out, and I start to sing.

" _Well you might just have missed the mark if you're keeping everyone away!"_ I sing, feeling the heat of the blue and red lights on my face, and next to me, Henry sings out as well _(Didn't mean to! Didn't want to!)_

" _Well, we might just leave a mark, if you don't give anyone a say!"_ I cry, and I hear the background again. Heads are turning now, as the lights raise to the rest of the band as I sing.

" _Every stone I've thrown has gone away!_ _It's gone away. It's gone away."_ The drums and second guitar have come back in and the lights are up as I bounce around the stage, playing my own part. There are a few mammals who are coming closer to the stage, but I can barely see them.

"It's a nooo-tion," I whisper into the microphone, "That doesn't matter even if we stay."

"And it's overrated." Henry murmurs into his.

"And manipulative." James sings into his.

" _Nobody ever has a say."_ We sing together, in harmony. I actually hear a few whoops.

" _It makes me wonder who can wait, and attest my patience-!"_ I breathe, and continue. " _Cause it's not worth waiting."_

" _Every stone I've thrown has gone away! Has gone away. It's gone away."_ I feel the drumbeat, the guitar chords as I stroke the strings.

" _Away…"_ I trail off, and the song finishes. There's applause. Not a lot of it, but I can't exactly say I expected all that much of it. I smile, and give a pleasant wave to the crowd.

"Thank you!" I say. "That was only the opener- everything gets better from here!"

I turn, and the others are looking. James is panting slightly, and has a water bottle in his paw.

"Alright, Girl Harbor!" I say, and turn back.

 **(AN: ANOTHER M.O. SONG: watch?v=cyQ0-XFAaIE)**

The drums and bass start almost instantly. I count as they beat, and then come in.

"Cause you, always talk so loud, and you never notice." The small crowd in front of us is growing larger by the second. Many of the older rabbits are staying at the back, determinedly not looking at us.

"I don't mind the sound, but you've rearranged the pieces of your life so many times you've burned out the parts."

The second guitar comes in, and I sing the chorus.

" _I don't want to believe, but I want to believe you. I don't mean what I say, but I say what I mean to…"_

I trail off as the guitar echoes what I've just sung. Some of the older rabbits are surreptitiously walking over.

" _So now your last name is mine."_ I see her, walking in front of me. Just out of reach, and I sing with more power just because I can feel her watching, somewhere. _"And I feel no different."_

" _I've made a match that's trying to prove…"_ Prove nothing. I love her, and that's all that should matter.

" _Trying to find a way I can explain. There's nothing else to possibly say!"_ I fall back from the mic, and the chorus hits as I prepare for the most vocally challenging part. I'm vaguely aware of fog pouring around my feet and the heat of a spotlight on me. I think I see the bar owner out in the crowd, but perhaps it's just my imagination.

" _I don't want to believe, but I want to believe you. I don't mean what I say but I say what I mean to you."_

" _You waste so much time!"_ We sing together. I walk up and grab the microphone, walking to the edge of the stage. Here goes nothing.

" _On desperate friends, trying to reconcile their names!"_ I sing, bent over. " _There's a name for men like you inside the da-aa-ark! And I KNOW your faults, I know the way you write them off, I don't want anything to do with it no mo-ooo-oo-re!"_

I hear cheering as I stumble back to where the microphones are set up. The light blinds me, but this is the reason. No money, no fame, just me, Judy, and the music and space which divide us.

Finnick

I once had a guitarist from a band we were opening for tell me that the real difficulty for rock bands is to create a crowd from no crowd. That's exactly what we've done. From here, I don't have any lights on me, so I can see that the crowd in front of the stage has skyrocketed. My drum solo went over particularly well. But we haven't used any of the pyrotechnics yet, so I think that's gonna be interesting.

A light rain has begun to fall as we finish "Saint Nicky." The crowd is now comprised of a good two hundred mammals directly in front of the stage, but there are also another two hundred on the patio, watching us. I see the bartender watching us silently from the patio.

"Thank you for having us tonight!" Nick shouts. "It's been such an honor. This one goes out to a friend of mine who always supported my music. This is! **Disloyal Soldiers of the Water Buffalo**!"

The crowd screams, even though no one knows what it is. Nick picks up his guitar, and the mammals fall into a hushed murmur.

" _I'm coming apart at the seams, pitching myself for leads in other mammal's dreams now, buzz, buzz, buzz, doc, there's a hole where something was."_ He sings, and everyone is silent. The world seems to stop spinning just for a second as he croons. _"Doc, there's a hole where something was."_

He lifts his guitar up to the crowd and starts to play. One measure, and, _there's my cue._ I hit the bass drum in the pattern of the beat. I hear the words this pattern represents each time. I hear Henry and James come in as well.

"Fell outta bed, butterfly bandage, but don't worry." Nick sings. He's pushing himself, trying to finish the concert on a bang, and with the rain, it looks as though droplets of water are literally flying off of the guitar, his fur, and his clothes. "You'll never remember, your head is far- too- blurry."

"Pu-put him in the back of a squad car, restrain that mouse, he needs his head put through a CAT scan." Henry and James sing the backup as I drum. They sound alright, especially for never having played this song before.

"Hey editor! I'm undeinable!" Nick roars, and the crowd is waving their arms. "Hey doctor, I'm certifi-i-i-able, oh."

Suddenly, the music slows, becomes sweeter"I'm a loose bolt, of a complete machine." This one is Henry.

"What a match, I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet." Nick says, and the guitar plays for just a second, before the chorus comes in.

"Boycott love! Detox just to retox!" Nick crys, and the crowd is holding lighters in the air, and I can feel the Catherine Wheels we set up to go off behind us rise into the air, and explode. The crowd screams.

"And I'd pro-o-mise you anything for another shot at life!" Nick is glimmering, water trailing down everything as the light from the fireworks fades and the crimson and white stage lights settle on him. "Imperfect boys, with their perfect lives! Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy!"

The music starts up again, and I hit the bass drum. Each time I hit it, a little water flies off. The light rain is continuing, but I only register it in the back of my mind. Nick's voice, the bass and guitar noises, and my own drums block the rain from view.

"Little cub, you caught my staring eye!" Nick holds the microphone out to the crowd, and there's cheering. "Or was that just a telescopic camera nod?" He sings, but it's not a question anyone can answer.

"P-p-painted dolls in the highway truck stop stalls, lot lizard scales cool your night life moods-." James sings, and turns to Nick to complete the verse.

"All the rookies leave your badge and your gun on the desk when you leave the roo-oo-oom!" Nick is hunched over, and springs back up with the force of a bullet.

"I'm a loose bolt, of a complete machine."

"What a match…" Nick looks up into the rainy sky, and water drips down his muzzle and onto the stage floor. "I'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet."

"Boycott love!" All three of them are singing now, and it's indiscernible over the singing of the crowd. "Detox just to retox! And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life! Imperfect boys, with their perfect lives! Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy!"

I stand on my stool, bringing the microphone for the drums close to my face as the music goes quiet.

"DETOX! JUST TO RETOX!" All four of us shout, and the stage is bathed in water and blue light.

"DETOX! JUST TO RETOX!"

"DETOX! JUST TO RETOX!"

"REPEAT AFTER ME! Soo… boy-cott lo-ove!" Nick sings, and then holds the mic out to the crowd.

"BOY-COTT LO-OVE!"

"Boy-cott lo-ve!" Nick signs, this time a half step lower, and I grab my sticks and slam the drums as I roll and the entire song heads to the final verse in a crashing, beautiful mess.

"Boycott love! Detox just to retox!" Nick sings, and the crowd is bouncing up and down. "And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life! Imperfect boys with their perfect lives! Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy!"

The guitars fade into the blackness, and a final set of fireworks shoot into the air. The crowd is clapping, James is lifting me off my stool, and holding me up to the crowd, and everything is just so strange and alien. Nothing seems real.

"Thank you, and good night!" Nick shouts, and together, the four of us walk offstage and back towards reality.

 **AUTHORS NOTE: Sorry about how long I took to update, I've been taking tests and there's been drama all week. The last song is actually called Disloyal Order of Water Buffalos, and it's an amazing Fall Out Boy song.**

 **Link: watch?v=BelMpQChslU**

 **Thank you for reading me. If you have anything to tell me, any suggestions, comment or DM me. Thank you all.**

 **N.J.**


	8. Chapter 8

Judy

"Good morning, dear." My mother says with a bright smile as I walk into the kitchen. A good night's sleep and a little time alone has done little to cure my anger, but it has made me remember that these rabbits are my parents, and nothing will change that.

"Hi, mom." I say wearily, and slump into my seat. My mother glances at me worriedly and pushes a bowl of mixed fruits under my nose. I stare at them and begin to search through. They're all fresh, and I spot some strawberries mixed in among the apples, blueberries, and others. Strawberries are quite expensive. My mom must feel quite guilty.

I can hear the sounds of my siblings in the other rooms as they awake. There's rustling and shouting from every part of the house, and I feel as though I've never left. My ears twitch as I eat. The fruit is good, but with the food comes energy, and with the energy comes nerve. I begin to glance around the kitchen, looking for ways out of the house.

"Judy," my mom looks as though she's been about to burst. "I just wanted to say that while I think your father was a little harsh, you need to know that this is what's best for you, and you'll understand that eventually."

"Yeah, I'm sure I will." My voice sounds so soft, so timid. It's not the voice of the bunny who interrogates criminals on a daily basis. My parents do strange things to me.

"G'morning sweetheart, g'morning Jude." My father walks into the kitchen, his nose buried in a copy of the Bunnyburrow Daily Press. "Sleep well?" he asks to no one in particular, sitting down without looking at either of us. The two of us glance at each other, smile ruefully, and return to our respective tasks.

"Morning, mum." Andrew walks into the room. He's my younger brother, who came three litters after me. He's technically not all that much younger than me, but he acts as though there are ten to twenty years separating. His ears have spots of black, and he looks worn out.

"Good morning, Andy." Mom looks cheerful now, as two more of my siblings enter the room after Andrew and sit down at the table.

There's silence as everyone goes back to doing their own small tasks. I keep eating, but continue to observe, continue to glance around the room. I look Andrew up and down. He's grown since I saw him last, and he wears a faded black shirt which bears the image of a paw holding a glittering hypodermic needle. I almost choke when I see it.

"Andy, that's a Warmbloods shirt!" I exclaim. He looks up, and a grin spreads across his face.

"You like it? I got it cheap at a thrift store. It came from one of their original tours. I love them." He stands, strikes a pose, and strikes three chords on an air guitar.

"WE'RE THE SONS OF RAGE AND LOVE!" he shouts. My father looks up sternly, and my brother, looking bashful, sits back down.

"None of that shouting in the dining room, sweetie." My mother chides. "Besides, I thought I told you to get over that rock and roll stuff. You're going to need to get a job someday."

"Hey, let the kit dream!" My father laughs. "The Warmbloods are real rock stars, Bonnie. Keeping it real, and about the music." A dreamy look comes over his face. "I wish I could be a rock star like that. Making money and not caring about a damn thing other mammals thought."

I'm struck with a sudden and violent desire to laugh, but that desire is quelled almost instantly by a deep conflict. I could tell them. I could let them know that my fox boyfriend happens to _be_ a Warmblood. They probably wouldn't believe me, however, and more importantly, it would shatter Nick's anonymity. I would never do that to him, and I know that if I were to say that out loud, the rumor would run out of control.

"Holy sh-!" My father cries suddenly, I turn, and my mother shouts.

"Stu!"

"Sorry, hun." He says, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Jude, Andy, look!" he thrusts the paper under my snout. I grab it, and, with Andy leaning over my shoulder, read the headline.

 **WARMBLOOD'S SECRET PERFORMANCES COME TO BUNNYBURROW?**

"We were just talking about them!" My father says eagerly, but I'm too shocked to say anything. My eyes trace the article. The picture is a wet, blurry picture of a lion holding up a short fox. Both of them are bathed in purple light. The lion has a guitar strapped to his chest and the short fox holds up what appear to be drumsticks. My eyes go to the body of text.

 _Yesterday night, a bar in the outer country around Bunnyburrow got a surprise visit from one of punk rock's most famous bands. The Warmbloods are famous for playing concerts in secret, and playing crowds who don't even know that they're subject to the music that they're about to hear._

 _The owner of the bar wished to remain anonymous, but he did give a short account of what had happened. "They came in out off the streets and asked for a gig. I didn't know who they were, so I gave them the outdoor stage in the rain, and told them they could play from seven to eight. About seven thirty, I heard cheering from outside, and I came out, and watched the last thirty minutes. It was unbelievable. They had rigged a smoke system, fireworks, and lights as well as hooked up their own amps in the forty five minutes that they had before the show. They played a new song that I'd never heard. Even the rain couldn't stop them. It was ridiculous."_

 _Even more ridiculous is the massive amounts of speculation that The Warmbloods played this concert without their masks, which is unheard of. This has led to wild claims about the appearances of the band members. Recurring stories seem to show the lead singer- famous for his public and unwavering support on the criminal act of interspecies marriage- as a red fox with blue or green eyes. His support of interspecies marriage puts him in the wrong, but his music is truly amazing. The Warmbloods are speculated to be on their way to Bunnyburrow, but their next appearance location is still unknown. They are known for (CONTINUED ON PAGE 6B)._

"That's amazing!" Andy squeaks, grabbing the paper from me and desperately turning the pages to try to find 6B. "I can't believe they might be coming here!"

"Don't get your hopes up, kiddo." My dad says gently. "No one knows where they're going to play next, and no one knows why they're here."

Well, one part of that statement is true. Nobody does know where they're going to play next, but I think I have a pretty good idea of why they're here. The question is, how did they get their instruments through the checkpoints at the edge of Zootopia? Generally, equipment of that size requires a permit.

…

" _Oh, I don't know, transporting goods across precinct borders without a permit, …"_

…

Oh, _Nick._

Nick

"So, gentlemen." I stride back to the small booth that we've gotten for ourselves in this small diner on the very edge of Bunnyburrow. It's so close to the official city limits, you can see the ever multiplying sign which welcomes you to the town. "Where are we going to play next?"

"I've actually been thinking about that." Henry says. I slide into the booth next to him. "There's a music festival coming up here, because they have festivals every two weeks, I have no idea why-."

"They're bunnies." Finnick interrupts. "What do you expect? They like to party."

"They like to party with municipal money." Henry says dryly. "This town is a lot richer than a lot of the other small towns that I've been to."

"When's the music festival?" I try to steer the conversation back onto its original course.

"Four days." Henry says. "There's an open mic stage, and I say we rig that in secret and then you get up and play an intro song and then we all get up and play."

"I'm in." Finnick says this so fast my head practically rotates off my shoulders as I try to look at him.

"No hesitation." I comment mildly.

"Shut it, Wilde." He snaps. "I like to fucking drum."

"New band motto!" James says. "I like to fucking drum."

I start to laugh, and soon the whole table is laughing. We're laughing so loud that we're attracting stares from some of the other tables. Slowly, it subsides.

"Seriously, though." I say with a chuckle. "I like that idea, but I think we should play a practice show somewhere to warm up for that."

"What about a park?" Finnick asks. "We set up in the park, and then we start playing in the afternoon."

"We'd have to construct our own stage for that to work." James observes.

"Yes, that is true." Finnick grumbles. "If we even wanted to use a stage. There are parks with pawball courts that we could use."

There's a pause, and then Finnick sighs in reluctant agreement. "Construct the stage it is."

"The nearest park is within twenty miles, we could start setting up the stage this afternoon." Henry says.

"The biggest problem is going to be attracting a crowd." I say. "Once we actually get them there, there's going to be no way for us to get out in secret like we did last night."

"That's not an issue." Henry dismisses with a wave of his paw. "It's simple. You build the stage so that it's over a tunnel that we dig to the sewer, and we go out through there."

"You're really testing the limits of how far I'm willing to go to play music." I deadpan. Henry gives a sun bright smile

"Bunnyburrow has a fairly advanced sewer system. We could conceivably find an access tunnel which runs under the park, and then go into that and get out after the show." Finnick judges.

"Why the hell is this even an option?" I groan. James laughs.

"Let's see here." Henry pulls out his travel map from his pocket and unfolds it onto the table. He traces it, looking at a variety of items until finally he taps a small green square in the middle of a large section of the map labeled "Bunnyburrow County Municipality."

"There. Because there are buildings surrounding it, and it's a center of municipal activity, there's undoubtedly a maintenance line underneath it."

"You want to play Bunnyburrow City Park." I say, staring at the small lettering in the green square.

"That's pretty much our only option." Henry shrugs.

There's silence, and I stare long and hard at the map. I let out a violent yell of anger and reluctance.

"This is a terrible idea." I say.

"Yes, that's probably true." Henry agrees. "It is, however, the only idea we have."

"He's got you there, Nick." James says.

I glance over my shoulder to see a waitress coming over to the booth holding a tray laden with glasses. I turn to James.

"If the milkshakes weren't here, I would throw you out the window." I say.

James gives a wicked grin. "I'd like to see you try, little fox."

I turn to reply, but don't. The milkshake is tasty enough to shut my muzzle for a while, and, if only temporarily, I can start thinking about a set list for the performance. I've got an idea, but the list probably shouldn't be longer than an hour. I sigh, get out my notebook, and start to write.

 _Bunnyburrow Day 2_

 _News Article about us this morning_

 _Anonymity for the next concert?_

 _Miss Judy more than ever now. Hopefully I can find her soon._

 _Concert tonight. Hopefully, I won't botch it, but we'll see._

 _Set List_

 _Foxes from Suburbia_

 _If You Can't Hang_

 _What a Catch_

 _Cope_

 _Grand Theft Autumn_

 **A/N: So, I read the reviews for the first time ever yesterday. Wow. That was quite a surprise. I've never gotten very positive reviews to me or my writing, so seeing that you guys like it was wonderful. Again- suggestions for songs, comments, anything, PM me or comment. Thank you for reading me.**

 **NJ**


	9. Chapter 9

"— _in what some are calling the most atrocious act of large scale prejudiced violence in mammal history—"_

"— _the identities of those responsible are unknown. Their actions were in response to the band's previous history of support for extremely sensitive topics, and their beliefs-"_

"— _mayor of Zootopia announced his full condemnation of the acts of the ZPD's Bunnyburrow division and of the Bunnyburrow militia tonight as protests against their acts have exploded across the city-"_

" _-live from the Rainforest District, where a large scale vigil for the Warmbloods and their Bunnyburrow fans has been rallied—"_

"— _much is still unknown, and there is no sign of the Warmbloods band members anywhere thus far. Stay tuned for more breaking news on the Bunnyburrow crackdown right here on Channel 21-"_

Nick

My entire body feels as though I've been put through a meat processor. I'm staring straight up. Instead of the roof of my own cozy apartment, I see hard sheet metal. I must be in Finnick's van. I try to sit up, but a sharp pain in my arm sends me straight back onto the small blanket that I'm lying on. I raise my paws up to my eyes. My right paw has a bandage across the pads, and the orange fur is matted with blood.

"He's up!" I hear a voice from behind me, which I recognize as Finnick's. There's a rustling, shifting noise and I feel the large bodies of Henry and James come into the small space at my feet.

"What's up?" I say, weakly.

Finnick doesn't speak for a couple of seconds, and when he does, there's no humor in his voice.

"How much do you remember?"

"Nothing." I shake my head slightly. It's a bit of a lie. I can remember flashes. Sharp jolts of pain. Screams. A dense fog that encompassed me and burned my skin and eyes. Masks that aren't my own. And shouts, full of anger and hatred. "A little bit, actually. What happened?"

Slowly, the story comes out. Mostly, it's told by James, with his voice flat and shocked. I've never heard his voice like that.

"We set up to play in the park. We made sure it was legal before we did it, because we didn't want to get arrested. We built the stage and put out the lights and everything. We attracted a crowd of about five hundred, mostly rabbits. After the first song, there was shouting. There was a huge crowd that had come. They were a combination of official ZPD officers and Bunnyburrow militia members. They knew who we were, and they demanded that we clear out now. You asked why, and they told us they…" he trails off.

"Didn't want our kind here." Finnick's voice is broken, shattered.

"You said that we would, but they got angry. They started tear gassing the crowd and throwing Molotov cocktails and people were running. They shot you in the leg. We bandaged it, but we had to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding. You've been out for almost twelve hours."

There's dead silence. I can hear the sound of my own blood pumping in my veins.

"Why?" It's a plea, a desperate call to whatever heavenly being guides the universe to make this not be true.

"I don't know, Nick." Henry's voice sounds shaky.

Again, there's silence. I feel it. A dark hole, spreading inside of me.

It's always been hard for me to believe. I've never believed in the power of love. There was no one there to love me when I was little. Love had no power, no all guiding force. I didn't believe in a common, fundamental goodness of animals. I met Judy, and she convinced me that on some level, all mammals are good. But this has shattered that idea, shattered it into a thousand pieces and strewn those pieces on a barren, rocky surface. I've got two scars minimum and a completely scattered brain.

"We need to get out of this town. Go back to Zootopia, and get some rest." I'm not sure who says it. In the darkness that's overwhelming me, everyone sounds the same. I hear some murmurs of agreement, and then a pause. I realize with a jolt that they're waiting for me to speak. And I can't.

But then, with a single flicker in my brain, I hear it.

 _Stop feeling sorry for yourself._

The thought comes from such a distance that I'm not even sure if it's really there, but it latches into my mind and I wake up. I'm suddenly aware of the situation, all of it. And I know what has to be done.

"No." I say sharply, and force myself up, despite the pain. I can finally see my band member's faces. They look tired and sad and angry and something else. Broken, I think. "This is not how we go out." I assert.

"Nick…" Finnick begins, but I cut him off.

"I know that whatever comes out of your mouth right now is going to be full of pity, so shut your trap." I turn to him, and then to the others. "We got hit bad, I'm not going to lie. But here's the deal- how we come back from this defines what kind of band we are and how others view us. Right now, most mammals see us as rebels shot down by the system. But that's not what we are. We're rebels who _turned the system on it's goddamn hinges and forced it to work for us!"_ I'm practically shouting now, my hands making small gestures in the air. "I mean, look at me! I was a conman who became a police officer, and after this music thing is done, that's going to be my official and only job! So here's the deal- I don't know how, but we need to go out there and show those prejudiced asshats who the boss is."

"Yes, but you said it yourself- _we don't know how to do that!_ " Henry is now looking legitimately concerned. "Nick, you almost died. I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, but there's no conceivable plan to actually get back at-!"

"Henry, shut up and let me think." I close my eyes. Pieces of ideas float freely through my mind, but there's no evidence of anything resembling a cohesive plan yet. I think.

"Why didn't I think of that sooner?" I murmur to myself. I see it. It's not perfect, and it's going to require the next two days being insanely hectic. But I think it will be worth it.

"What?" Finnick asks.

"We put on our own music festival." I say simply. The car is dead silent.

"You're joking." James sounds weak.

"I'm completely serious. We put out a request to some popular rock bands, some popular artists, and we use some of the tour money we got from our first concert to rent a gigantic piece of land for the night. It'll be just out of the city limits, so they can't do anything about it. We'll make sure to let people get in for free. And…" I grin. It's a con, just another con, and the City of Bunnyburrow is the mark. "We'll hold it on the same night as the festival in the city."

Finnick is starting to laugh now. "We're going to hustle the whole damn city!"

"Who should we invite?" James asks. I pause.

"First of all, it should be a benefit festival, because that'll make us look better." Henry pauses, before asking snidely, "What charity do you think would piss off a bunch of redneck rabbits the most, do you think?"

"We should give the Predators for Peace organization 50%," Finnick is laughing full on now, "and give the other half to the Interspecies Rights Committee."

"You all are genius." I say. "How much money did we get for that concert at Elephantine?"

"Total?" Henry asks, pulling his phone out and accessing the bank.

"Yeah."

"Hmm… 1.2 Million."

"Sometimes I forget how mice the money is." I say with a groan. "What was the bonus that we got for agreeing to play?"

"500 grand."

"Alright, we'll use that, then." I decide. "The signing bonus will go to making a stage and renting the field."

"How are we going to get acts?" James asks frustratedly.

"Simple!" I pull out my phone. "We ask for help. Hand me my mask." Henry grabs my mask and hands it to me from the front seat. I strap it on, unlock my phone and pull up my front facing camera. Setting it to record, I look into the camera and start to talk.

"Hello, Zootopia. This is the Warmbloods. As you may know, we were recently attacked by a large crowd of angered citizens. So we're going to be throwing an enormous benefit concert, and we're looking for acts. If you are a registered performer who has hit more than two gigs, you can sign up in the comments. We're looking for fifty acts to last a total of six hours over quite a bit of land just outside the city. Proceeds will go to Predators for Peace and the Interspecies Rights Committee. Admission to the concert is free, but donations are always accepted and recommended." I stop recording, and turn to the others. "I'll put that up on every social media site I can find access to, and we'll see what happens. In the meantime, everyone find something to do."

"This is crazy." Finnick shakes his head.

"We're all crazy here. You want to help or not?"

Within the space of the next two hours, Finnick has left to go rent the land from anyone he can find, Henry is going to go see about the stage, and James is off to design a poster and plaster it all over the town.

The moment I post the video on YouStream, the biggest video site on the planet, it gets fifty comments within the space of fourteen minutes. And they aren't just spam comments from bands called "Stick it in 'Em" (although one of them was.) However, the big surprise comes just a half an hour after the video was posted. The sixth comment from the bottom, and thus the forty forth act that will play the concert.

COMMENT 44: Gazelle [OFFICIAL]

 _Warmbloods, my team and I would love to play the benefit concert. This is a wonderful opportunity to unite in the face of struggle and I love to see that you are doing that. Our contact information has been PM'd to you. See you soon!_

"Gazelle wants to play the concert." I say as soon as Finnick walks into the back of the van, looking satisfied.

"You're kidding." He says with a slowly spreading grin. "That's dope."

"Don't ever use the word 'dope' in a sentence again."

"You know what else is dope? I got a two acre farm outside the city limits that's willing to host us. Twelve hours for 125 grand."

"Who's it run by?"

"You remember the bartender who let us play a couple of nights ago?" Finnick says with a wicked grin.

"That's fantastic!"

"What's fantastic?" Henry asks as he appears behind Finnick.

"Finnick got us two acres of farmland to play on, and it's owned by a totally unprejudiced wolf outside of the city limits!"

"That is pretty awesome." Henry says with a grin. "Of course, that's even less exciting than the fact that I managed to get a couple of guys to construct one large stage for 500 grand. Lights, rigging, everything. They can have it done by 9 am in two days if I let them know within two hours.

"Finnick, give him the address." I order, and Finnick hurries off with Henry. I lie down, angry. I want to go out and help. It's not exactly fun for me to sit around being the queen bee, because it means I have to confront myself.

I'm suddenly struck with an odd feeling in my gut. I don't exactly understand it for a second, but it persists, and suddenly I understand it.

"I miss her." I say softly, and the moment I say it, I know it's true. I miss her more than anything. I'd do anything to have her here right now. To know that she lies just outside my reach, that she's here but is protected by a set of parents who think I'm a vicious criminal is torture.

I sigh, and close my eyes. I can see her, her violet eyes and smart, happy laugh. The way her foot tapped when she got irritated. Everything seems to be seen through a blue tint. I miss every motion, every flickering smile.

" _Baby, you were my picket fence. I miss missing you now and again."_ I sing softly. And I stare at the roof of the van and make a promise. I will find her. The moment I can get up again, I'm going to find her, whether or not her parents like it. I need her now more than ever, and I can only hope that in this time she hasn't forgotten me.

 **A/N: REUNITION NEXT CHAPTER. (Translation: SO MUCH FLUFF.) Also more music. TY FOR READING ME.**


	10. Chapter 10 Part One

Nick

I haven't pulled an all-nighter since high school, but apparently I still have it. I suppose I should congratulate myself or something, but really all I feel is tired and weak. Sunlight streams in through a dirty window covered by curtains in the small hotel room I'm staying in. I was lucky to get one this good. The hotel I went before this told me they didn't give rooms to thieves.

I've spent the last twelve hours arranging every final thing for the newly named "PredaPrey Music Festival" and making sure that the whole thing won't go up in smoke before my eyes. At multiple points during the night, I thought it was going to, but it appears that we may actually pull the whole thing off.

All of the Warmbloods are sleeping in different rooms around the city. It's important, because four predators checking into a room together following the attacking of a four predator band in the same city is a little suspicious. Finnick is probably already up and heading to the farm where the festival is to be held to oversee the construction of the stage. I was skeptical when he informed me at about nine o'clock last night that the construction crew claimed that they could construct the five hundred foot wide stage with 100 foot wide backstage area as well as a sound system and an enormous set of lights in _under twelve hours._ I'm still skeptical, but I guess I'll head over there at seven tonight and see whether or not they live up to the dream.

My itinerary for last night went something like this:

9:00: Finnick calls to confirm main stage being set up

9:15: Furbook page for the PredaPrey Music Festival created

9:17: Official lineup for the concert (fifty acts) announced on the new Furbook page. It receives ten thousand likes within an hour.

9:30: Finnick calls again to confirm that the area that has been selected to hold the concert "is awesome as fuck, I'm looking at it now" and to inform me that there might be a case to make for allowing people to sleep inside the concert grounds.

10:00: The City of Bunnyburrow releases an official statement informing the public that they will make housing mammals attending the concert inside the city illegal by punishment of a twenty thousand dollar fine. Outrage explodes across social media.

10:05: Finnick calls to demand that we allow camping within the grounds of the concert.

10:27: Post is made on the official PredaPrey furbook account which runs something like this.

 _Due to the actions taken by Bunnyburrow, we are proud to say that we will now allow all people planning on attending the concert to camp out inside the festival grounds or within a mile radius of the site. Bring your own tent, but food and drink vendors will appear. The site is open for camping at eight o'clock tomorrow night._

10:55: MuzzleTime with Gazelle (I'm masked, of course) to make absolutely sure that we'll be able to get her in on time.

11:14: James calls to say he's on a train back to Zootopia. He will be heading to a storage locker in Sahara Square which contains all of the most dangerous and showy Warmbloods special effects equipment. He will be using a moving truck to haul it all back to the festival grounds.

11:46: I finally manage to get to sleep.

12:04: I am awakened again by the buzzing of my phone. Upon opening it, I find that I have missed calls from multiple unknown numbers. Upon replaying the messages, I find that they are all messages regarding specifics about bands and their play times.

12:48: Message sent to all bands via a private email to inform them of when to meet at the stage so that they can be given a tour of the facility. Stage times are included with this email, as well as a request for lighting and sound requests.

2:34: I finish sorting through the sound and lighting requests from all fifty of the acts. Once they are all sent to Finnick to sort through with the lighting guys, I decide that I probably won't be going to sleep so I go to make coffee.

4:17: #IRoarfortheWarmbloods is trending on Twitter.

4:22: #PredaPreyforWorldPeace is trending on Twitter.

5:03: I finish writing no less than two new songs, music and all, which I send to the others. Their names are _Basket Case_ and _Cope._

5:17: _Basket Case_ is added to the set list for the concert.

6:00 on the dot: Finnick texts to let me know he's on his way to supervise the stage construction.

7:07: Text from Fangmeyer: _Wilde, hope ur doing ok. Haven't seen u work recently so I hope that you're doing fine._

8:33: I head to the small parking garage where Finnick's van is parked to retrieve my guitars, and I head back to the hotel. All the while, I have found myself on the phone with members of the band Cities of the Damned, who want to know when they should get there, and insist that I haven't sent them anything resemble anything to tell them that.

9:55: I am lying on my back on the small bed, bags under my eyes, figuring out something much more important than what I've been doing.

Today, I want only one thing. I want to talk to Judy, to see her, to actually be able to hear her voice. Last night, I went by her house on the way to the hotel, and found a vast and sprawling farm. I'd assume that her house was the elaborate farm mansion which was placed at the back of the carrot patch, with its windows aglow. I didn't go up to it then, but now, there's nothing to stop me.

I grab my acoustic guitar and head for the door. I want to see her, and at this point, it's like a vital need. I miss her like she's a part of me. I need her as soon as possible.

I feel a renewed sense of purpose and I walk through the streets without really seeing them. The quaint downtown of the city seems to fade as I walk into lush country side. The sun rises higher in the air, but I follow my steps from last night and nothing seems at all out of place. I find myself walking through the countryside, with a gentle breeze ruffling my fur. It's really beautiful out here. It makes sense that this is where Carrots grew up. The very landscape seems to radiate gentle beauty and dignity, just like the vibe I always get from her.

I see the painted sign that reads "HOPPS FARMS" and know I've arrived. I look around until I spy the building, made of wood and glass and looking just like a modern farmhouse, and I start to walk towards it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." calls a voice from off to my right. I turn. A rabbit is walking towards me. I glance him up and down. He's got Judy's fur color, with the exception of a couple of black spots on his ears, and his eyes are blue. Despite this, he's very clearly Judy's sibling.

"Why not?" I ask, and immediately regret it. I feel like a stereotypical fox, and I know he must feel that way too. He shrinks back a little, and then sighs.

"Because you'll get sprayed, you dumb fox." He says sounding weary. "They've got anti-crook protection, and that'll go off even if you aren't a crook but are a predator."

"You're kidding." I say.

"Nope." He says. He shoots a glance towards the house. "I hate it, you have no idea, but I sort of just have to watch it happen, if that makes any sense. They are my parents, and mostly it's my dad. My mom just goes along with it."

"Why?" I ask, intrigued. Carrots never, ever talks about her parents (a trait I suppose we share in common), and on the rare occasions that she does bring them up, she only speaks of them as sweet, doddering fools.

"Because she loves my dad. They're sweet, but they've been taught in some pretty stereotypical ways." The bunny smiles ruefully. "They're about the nicest rabbits you can imagine, unless you're a predator. For example, my dad went straight from pushing my little sister on a swing yesterday while chatting with an old woman to trying to use fox repellant on the Warmbloods a couple of days ago."

I feel my blood run cold. My face hardens, and I think the rabbit sees that.

"He was in the riot." I say quietly.

"Don't get it wrong, he didn't do anything. He just didn't do anything to stop it, and…"

"That's just as bad." I finish.

"My mom and sister were pissed." He chuckles after a pause. "You should have seen it. My mom screamed for like five minutes about how they were mammals too and he was making the whole family look like savages and my sister just sat there and cried."

He looks down for a second, and I see real concern flash across his eyes.

"My sister was actually more upset about it than anyone. She wouldn't talk to anyone, she just stood there and looked like my dad was destroying a piece of her with every word."

I give him a long, hard stare. Slowly, he looks up.

"I forgot to introduce myself." He says hastily, and extends his paw. "The name's Andrew Hopps. You can call me Andy, everyone else does."

"Hi, Andy." I say. "I'm Nick. Nick Wilde."

He stares, and then covers his mouth with a sharp gasp.

"You- you- you- you're my sister's- you're-!"

"Yes, I'm Judy's boyfriend." I say, with a grin. This rabbit is actually quite charming.

"Well, it's an honor to meet you." He shakes my paw again, more firmly. "You might have had success with me, but the moment you impress my dad will be the moment Judy quits the force to become an accountant."

"Thanks for that encouraging advice." I say dryly.

"Seriously." He looks at me, his eyes heavy. "Do not try to see her, Nick. You won't be able to get inside the house."

I'd prepared for this, and I pause for just a second to congratulate myself for my own brilliance.

"Okay, that's fine. In that case, give her this." I reach into my guitar case and pull out a small brown package, on which I've written "Carrots" in silver Sharpaw. "Don't let your parents see it."

"I'm not dumb, I won't." He says, taking the package from me. He looks me up and down. "You're going to have to do me a favor if you want her to get this, though."

I blink. This bunny is trying to hustle me, and he's gotten exactly what he needs to do it. He knows I want her to get that package more than anything in the world. He's ready to make me bargain for it.

"Alright, what do you need?" I say, resigned to my fate.

"So, my sister told me that you're like, a story of survival. You were the best con man in the city-,"

"I wouldn't say best, but go on."

"Fine, a good con man, and then you became like, an even better cop. But, at one point, you could get almost anything you needed from almost anyone in the city, right?"

"Sort of, yes."

"Alright, then I want two things." He leans in. "I want to know why you have a guitar on your back, and I want to know if there's a place I can get a tent and a sleeping bag."

"Why do you need a tent and a sleeping bag?" The moment the words leave my mouth, I know the answer.

"I'm running away," He says simply. "And the first stop is going to be the PredaPrey festival. I'm going to run away tonight, stay to watch The Warmbloods play, and then leave to the city so I can pursue my dreams."

I look at the kid with newfound appreciation. "I can get you a tent and a sleeping bag for free," I say "But the guitar thing is going to cost extra."

"What else do you want?" He asks, looking a little surprised at having gotten this far.

"I want to know what your dreams are." I say.

"Oh, that's easy!" He says, cheerfully. "I want to be a rock star."

"Not exactly an achievable dream."

"Doesn't matter, I'm going to try anyway." He says obstinately, sticking out his chest a little.

"Can you play anything?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm pretty good at the guitar as a matter of fact." He says proudly. "I can play a bunch of the songs from _This is What Remains_ , and that album has about the hardest guitar material in the world."

"Show me." I order. I slip the guitar off my back, out of its case, and place the strap around the bunny's shoulders. I toss him a pick from my pocket.

"What do you want me to play?" He asks.

"Play _Foxes from Suburbia_."

"Way to pick the hardest one!" He laughs. He adjusts the pick a little, stares at the neck, and then slams the first three chords beautifully.

" _We're the sons of rage and love!"_ I sing. The effect is immediate. His ears fall back, and he raises his head. His face is stunned. Almost robotically, his hand shifts and he plays the next three chords.

" _We're foxes from suburbia! The bible of, none of the above, on a steady diet of…"_ I sing, a grin spreading across my face. "Does that answer your question about the guitar?"

"Cheese and crackers." He whispers, his nose twitching. "You're The Warmblood's singer too?!"

"Apparently your sister hasn't told you everything about me." I laugh.

"Judy!" He practically shouts, placing his forehead in his paws. "No wonder she was so upset! You almost died two nights ago; I'm such a dumb bunny…"

"You'd be surprised at the number of 'dumb bunnies' who can play _Foxes from Suburbia_." I deadpan.

He stares at me. I laugh.

"Alright, here's the deal. I can get you the sleeping bag and the tent, but I'm also going to cut you a deal. If you can get Judy out of the house and to the festival with you, I'll let you sleep on the lawn right in front of the stage and then get front row seats for the concerts tomorrow."

Andy looks at me, his gaze appraising and calculating. Finally, he speaks. "Alright, but I need three bags."

"Why?" I say, surprised. This is a common hustling technique. Using higher numbers to throw the mark off their game. I'm not having it. He has to have a reason.

"One for me, one for Judy, and one for my girlfriend, Veronica." He says.

"You have a girlfriend?" I say.

"She's an otter." He says, and gives me a look. I suddenly understand with a pang what this kit must have gone through. His own parents telling him what he felt was wrong. I'm not sure I could have gotten through that.

"Got a picture?" I ask. He pulls out his phone, and with a few taps, pulls up a picture of a beautiful brown otter with black glasses and a flashing grin on his phone.

"Alright, fine. Three sleeping bags." I say with a sigh. "Here's my advice to you- park in the woods near the big Crooked Ewe Farm, and then come around the side until you see the stage. When you see it, follow it until you find me, and I'll let you in. Got it?"

"Deal." He says, and shakes my paw thoroughly. "See you soon, Nick." He hands me my guitar back, and, package in hand, takes off back towards the house. I watch him go. How odd. Some of the Hopps hate me, but I have a sinking feeling I'll be doomed to actually enjoying all of them.

Judy

There's a knock at the door. I'm staring listlessly at my own paws. The only other time I felt like this was back during the time when I was reduced to selling carrots during the Night Howler case. I feel like I need to break out, to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction of this house.

"Come in." I say.

Andy pushes open the door. His eyes gleam, as though he's excited. He walks in, shuts the door carefully, and turns to me.

"So, guess who I just met?" He asks quietly. I blink at him, not comprehending. He grins, and hands me a parcel wrapped in brown paper. I take it. It's large and bulky, but has been wrapped with care. I turn it over, and see one word written in silver on the paper.

"Nick." I whisper, and tear the package open rapidly. The paper practically blurs before my eyes until from within the wrapping, a blue shirt, blue pants and gold badge fall out. I pick up the badge.

 _ZPD_

 _Judith L. Hopps_

"It's my ZPD stuff." I whisper. "Oh, Nick." I feel my eyes fill with tears. He didn't know how much I needed this. How much I needed to see the uniform, and know that there is a force out there keeping Zootopia safe while the rest of the world remains ignorant.

"I'll leave you alone for a bit." Andy says with a wink, and walks from the room. I pick up the fabric and breathe in its scent. I smell my own rose petal conditioner, but I also smell oak trees, daisies, soda pop, and the strange metallic scent of guitar strings. Nick.

I put the fabric down, and as I do, I feel something hard underneath the pants. I push them aside to reveal a gold iPawd, lying in between the blue clothing. It's Nick's, I remember him using it when he taught me to dance a couple of weeks ago. I hit the home button, and immediately, the device wakes up, revealing a selfie of Nick and I. I smile, and slide to the right, revealing the iPawd's unlock screen. I key in the four digit passcode.

5-8-3-9.

The screen opens to reveal the MuzzleTime app. There are five contacts.

 _Judy_

 _James_

 _Henry_

 _Finnick_

 _Nick Wilde II_

My eyes go to the final contact. I move to click it, but before I can, the phone lights up.

 _ **Nick Wilde II**_ _wants to Muzzletime!_

I slide to accept, and on the screen, a face appears. A face that I haven't seen in a long time. A face that appears in my dreams, that appears when I feel lonely. The face of the only mammal I can really trust.

"So apparently your brother got the thing to you." He smiles, and his eyes are wet. "G'morning, Carrots. Sleep well?"

"Dummy." I whisper, and I can feel myself shaking.

He gives a very shaky laugh. "Sly fox." He points to himself. "Beautiful bunny." He points to me.

"How did you do this?" I ask.

"I gave you my iPawd under the assumption that your parents had wi-fi, and then added in my actual phone as a MuzzleTime contact. That way I could see you."

I feel like I can't stop smiling. His easy, barking laugh puts me more at ease than I ever have been over the past four days.

"Nick, this is wonderful. Thank you so much, you have no idea-!" I begin.

"Oh, you think this was for you!" He says, acting surprised. I laugh. He smiles, and then continues. "Well, okay, it was partially, but mostly, it was for me. I mean, I haven't seen you in over ninety six hours now, and other than that period where I acted like an idiot after that press conference, this is the longest period with zero contact. I thought I was losing my mind."

"Well, it's sweet no matter how you did it." I say gently.

"Seriously though, Carrots," and his eyes become dark. "We need to get you back to work ASAP."

"Why?" I ask, confused.

"Because I know you." He says. "You are going to sit around and tear yourself to pieces because you aren't doing what you love to do. I can see it in your eyes right now, I saw that look a lot when I hustled."

I stare at him, and again I'm struck with the urge to just sob. He's right, and I'm not even quite sure how. He read me like an open book, and so long as it's him doing the reading, I'm fine with it.

"Okay." I agree. "How, though? Chief Bogo said he'd come get me in two or three days, I can't remember, but he is coming."

"Too long." Nick dismisses. "Also, it's better for the both of us if I get you out of this one. Did Andy tell you what's going on?"

"No." I look at the Nick on my screen blankly.

"That's one smart rabbit." He says, his eyebrows raising in appreciation. "He knew I was going to tell you, and didn't want to ruin the surprise."

"What were you going to tell me?" I ask.

"We're busting you out." He says with a half grin. "Pack your stuff and get into your uniform, Carrots, we're getting you back to Zootopia."

"You're not serious!" I exclaim.

"Dead serious. Get the stuff you brought here together, and put on your uniform after that. Call me again if you want, or otherwise, wait. Andy will come get you soon, and you guys are going to come to the music festival. Once my band is done playing, we'll drive home and be back just in time for roll call the day after tomorrow."

"It's going to be a couple of late nights for us." I say, giving him a glance.

"When has that ever stopped us, fluff? Look, at this point, the whole 'get you back to Zootopia' thing is just a bullshit excuse for me to actually see you in the flesh. So get dressed and obliged me here."

I give him a slow smile. "You want me to keep the camera on while I get dressed?"

Nick's ears fall to the side of his head, and then perk up again. "Yes please."

"Nice try, slick." I say with a wink. "Not gonna happen."

He groans in disappointment, and I laugh.

"I love you, Nick."

His ears fall down again, and he looks at me, before smiling. There's gentle warmth in his eyes that I've never seen before.

"I love you too, Judy. Get your stuff together and call me again soon."

The call ends and I stare at the screen for a while before beginning to move about the room in a haze. Packing up my stuff isn't going to be a problem, seeing as I never unpacked it. I've essentially just worn old outfits from when I come here for the summer. I pull up the suitcase, go into the bathroom, and quickly change into my uniform, pinning the badge to my chest. I go back into the room to see if Nick put my Kevlar vest in the bag, but instead find a leather jacket, which I recognize as his. It swamps me, and there's a fox paw holding a hypodermic needle on the back, but it's warm, so I put it on. I pick the bag up, and, just as I am about to open it to make sure I have everything, I hear something.

Noises are coming from downstairs. I listen intently, but for a second, there isn't anything else, just silence. Then, there's shouting. I distinctly hear my father's voice, as well as my mother's, but I can't tell who the third voice is. They're shouting at each other, and I can't tell about what. Cautiously, I open the door to my bedroom, and tiptoe down the stairs towards the noises. The voices are growing in volume. Then, without warning, I hear a yelp of pain and a scream, and then the house goes quiet.

The police nerves in my body kick in, and I sprint the rest of the length until I arrive in the kitchen at the source of the noise. My father has his back to the counter, and is being held by my mother, who's crying. Andy is lying on the floor, holding his face, which is swelling visibly.

"Andy- I didn't- I'm sorry- I didn't-" My father stutters. He's gone completely white.

Andy looks at him. I don't know what's happened, but I see Andy's face, and I see him look at my father in a way that I've never seen before. He stands from the floor, looking unsteady, and wobbles his way over to the table in the center of the kitchen. He picks up a key lying on it and walks to a small cabinet over the oven. He unlocks the cabinet and pulls his car keys and my phone and wallet from within.

"Come on, Judy." He murmurs. "Let's go."

"Andy, please." My father pleads. "I'm sorry."

Andy looks at me, and extends his paw. I remember for a second when we were little, and when this would happen. I pull Nick's iPawd from my pocket and unlock it. I open a text thread with the contact _Nick Wilde II_ and send a three word text.

 _On my way._

"Alright, Andy." I say. I take his paw, and he smiles, and we turn to leave the kitchen.

"Judy…" My father calls from behind me, but I don't turn. I love my dad, and I know he loves me. But right now, my brother needs me more than him. Together, we walk from the kitchen and out the door, with the silence of the house following us into the brightness of the day.

 **A/N: An extra-long chapter for you guys is just what the doctor ordered. I'm particularly proud of this chapter, because I decided to split the whole festival up into three chapters. After this, there are three chapters (two remaining chapters about the festival and then an epilogue) left in the story, so I guess it's time for me to consider what I should do next. Do you guys want to see me write something else? A couple of fluffy one-shots? Maybe a more violent/darker crime story? Let me know. In the meantime** _(I'll sport my brand new fashion of waking up with pants on at four in the afternoon)_ **the second part of this chapter comes out Tuesday, I think. We'll see. It's gonna be good.**

 **Thanks for reading my super long authors note.**

 **NJ**


	11. Chapter 10 Part Two

Nick

"Holy crap." The scope of what I'm seeing can't even be described, so I have to resort to blatant use of shock. Really, the shock value of this is tremendous. I've seen stages built in a day. I've built stages myself. But generally, those were last minute projects, and generally they only consisted of pieces of sheet wood nailed together to form a flat, slightly elevated surface, and that doesn't even begin to describe what's in front of me.

I should probably start by saying that we have a lot of money at our disposal. There's a locked box in Finnick's van with the word "Band Debit Card" on it, and it has been loaded many times over. It contains several million dollars, or all revenue from the shows that we didn't need to support our own lifestyles. Those lives that we led off stage didn't necessarily need to be comfortable; they just needed to run smoothly on a day to day basis. Thus, while each of us technically has multimillionaire status, the actual profits of the band are several hundred times our combined net worth, and most of that is in safety deposit boxes or on the credit card in the van.

This money, which is used exclusively for band performances and tours, is the reason I'm stunned. I expected a cheap stage, and was honestly shocked when Finnick had to pay as much as he did for one. But the work that has been done has left me completely astounded.

Finnick and I are standing on the top of a gently sloping hill. In front of us is a vast stretch of grass, at least a mile in length. The field is ringed by forest on all sides, and most of it is circled by a great, semicircular, grass covered hill, which I have found myself on. The only sign of construction is really the tire marks on the grass.

The stage is about two hundred feet in length, and easily about one hundred feet tall. It's been made so that the front of the stage is curved to touch as much of what will soon be the "pit area" of the audience as possible. On either side of the stage are walls which hold gigantic speakers which are pointed out towards where we stand on the hill. Above these speakers on either wall are gigantic, black areas of painted concrete, where, if all the lighting and rigging is set up the right way, the images onstage will be projected for viewers who aren't as close to the stage. The backdrop of the stage is blank right now, but Finnick requested that the stage be set up in front of a small barn which will serve as a backstage area. The side of the barn is red, but has been painted with a black and white logo of a lion giving a starkly red rose to a small squirrel. Written in white above the image are the words "DEFINE US AS YOU WILL." The stage reminds me of all other music festival stages. The difference is that this stage was built in less than fifteen hours.

"How?" I say weakly. Finnick laughs.

"You're forgetting where we are, bro." He says, and opens his arms to the surrounding countryside. "The capitol of free labor and reproduction speed. I hired three construction agencies to get the job done faster, but each of them brought probably two to three thousand workers _per task._ "

"Most of them were rabbits, I'm assuming?" I say with a chuckle.

"Hell yes. I made sure that for the last parts like wiring and adding the lights and stuff that I hired a crew that was okay with the festival. Less chance for sabotage."

"You the man." I say with a grin. I've begun to look at the stage and the area around it more carefully, and I'm beginning to notice tiny little spots of detail. Some of them are my idea, but others are undoubtedly Finnick's.

Surrounding the stage in the pit area are a number of large rectangular blocks, turned on end so they stick a good ten feet in the air. These blocks are a good twenty feet wide, and each has a set of staircases on one side. It's a touch which I've seen at Pawlapalooza- the blocks are standing places for smaller mammals who wouldn't be able to see over the crowd otherwise. It's genius. I notice that he also took my suggestion of adding a runway to the stage- a large additional rectangular section of the stage which extends into the audience. I don't like to flatter myself (sometimes), but it was a good idea. Especially since the online poll which I set up to ask how many animals were coming just hit thirty thousand. However, in a particular stroke of forward thinking, there is a large circle of what is clearly stage material in the center of what will be the crowd. It's an island- a band member would half to crowd surf to it, but if you can get the crowd to get you there, you can play surrounded by a literal ocean of fans.

"I was thinking we could start there and then crowd surf our way onto the mainstage to start the number." Finnick says. I nod. It's a good idea. I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder, and turn to find myself staring at the grizzled old canine that let us play his bar. This is his farm.

"Mr. Wilde, I presume?" He says with a smile.

"Yessir, that's me." I say. I suppose that I'll have to give up my anonymity, but that doesn't matter in the slightest to me. I mean, this guy is about to let us host a giant music festival against social norm on his farm. He should get to know my name.

"The name's Dan." He extends his paw, and I shake it firmly. "You really know how to rock, Mr. Wilde."

"Call me Nick." I say quickly. Elders calling me "Mr. Wilde" brings back the faint memories of my father. That's never good. "Thank you for letting us host this festival here."

"What you're doing is really good, and I'm proud to let you host it here." Dan says, puffing his chest out a little bit. "All animals should be treated equally. I'm sorry about what happened to you a couple of days ago."

"Don't worry about it. It wasn't your fault." I dismiss. "Besides, this music festival is about to be fantastic."

"Yeah, I think that it is." Dan says with a smile. Finnick gives a little groan, pulls out his phone, and places it to his ear.

"What's up, Big H?" He asks, moving away slightly from the conversation. I give him a smile which goes unnoticed, and turn back to Dan.

"Is there anything else you need from us before tomorrow?" I ask.

Dan gives me a long, hard look, and finally speaks. "There is one thing you could do for me, actually."

I sort of expected this, and brace myself for the worst. "What do you want?" I ask.

"I was wondering…" Dan gives a shrug, "if maybe you would like to play for my family tonight."

I blink. "Like, a private concert? How big is your family?" I ask.

"Well, it's me, my wife, two of my younger kits, and then four of my older kits, two with their own families. So about thirty people."

I don't even have to think, which is good, because thinking tends to kill my smooth vibe. "Yeah, we can do that. What do you want us to play?" I ask.

"That's up to you." He says with another of his signature wolfish grins. "Can you do it in an hour?"

"Yep!" I say. He nods approvingly, and turns away to start walking down the hill. I watch him go with a flicker of nostalgia. A show for thirty mammals. I haven't played a show that small in a very long time. Probably means that we'll have to cut back on the actual polished songs and go more garage band, which I'm fine with, and I'm pretty sure the others will be fine with as well. We don't need James to do a thirty person show, probably because I'll have to do some acoustic versions of songs.

"NICK, GET THE HELL OVER HERE!" Finnick shouts. I jump slightly, and then jog over to where he stands.

"What's up, Fin?" I ask. He's visibly shaking. His phone is five feet away.

"The City of Bunnyburrow," he says, his voice radiating forced calm, "has shut down two lanes of the highway and one of the train lines leading into the city, which is the maximum they can stop without declaring a state of emergency."

"So people can't come?" I whisper.

"Not according to Henry. Apparently most are just parking their cars in the middle of the highway and proceeding on foot. Not kidding, this is actually happening. It does mean that they're going to get in later, and it also means James is going to have a much harder time getting his stuff to us."

"Alright, but how do you know that they're even getting here on foot?"

Finnick runs over to where his phone lays, picks it up, and unlocks it. There's a short silence where all I can see are the movements of his paws over the screen. Finally, he walks over to me. The phone is receiving a livestream view from Fox News. It's a helicopter shot of an enormous river of people holding signs and tents and torches making their way down the highway. Parked cars litter the road behind them.

"Wow." I murmur, watching the procession make it's way slowly over the ground.

"Henry's in the middle of that. He's not going to be here for a while."

"That's not good." I say. Finnick turns to me slowly.

"Why not?" He asks. His voice is very forced.

"Because I told Dan that we could play for his family in like fifty minute." I admit.

Finnick looks like he's about to shoot steam out of his ears. It would be funny, but the last time I saw him this angry he was about to beat the cream out of me. I have a feeling that might be about to happen again.

"Wait." I interrupt. He doesn't move, but keeps his furious eyes locked on me. "I know someone who can play the guitar."

"Where are they?" Finnick says, alert instantly. I pull my phone from my pocket.

 **Andy** : _nick we r coming a little early_. That text was sent about thirty minutes ago, meaning that they're about twenty minutes from here. I can feel my stomach tighten just thinking about that measure. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes until I get to see Judy. I shake the thought from my head. It's going to ruin my focus.

"Okay, here's the deal:" I say sharply. "You go over to that area right next to the stage and wait for them. They'll find you. When you get them, take them over to the farmhouse. I'll play for Dan and his kits until then. When you two get over to us, we'll play like three songs and then get out. Seem fair?"

Finnick gives a small nod. "You gotcha, Nick."

"Good. I'll see you soon." I say with a nod, and turn to begin my trek to the farmhouse.

"Nick!" Finnick calls from behind me. I turn.

"What?" I shout over my shoulder.

"Break a leg!" He roars. I grin, snap a messy salute, and turn to make my way back down the hill. Time to play a show.

 **Andy**

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" My sister asks from my side.

"Yes." I lie, forcing my way through a small patch of brambles. She gives me a sly look, and walks behind me. She won't say anything for a bit, of course, but then she'll start asking. Judy's like that. She cares a lot about people, but she's only able to keep to herself for a bit. She's a social rabbit. I look up to her for that.

We break through a small patch of trees into a little clearing. I have to make sure I keep the guitar on my back from hitting any of the trees. It's a constant danger with me. I look up through the trees. The sky is slowly turning purple. I strain my eyes. There's a large, black mass in my field of vision which is partially covered by the trees.

"What's that?" I ask. Judy has already started running towards it, bouncing off of trees to avoid obstacles in her path. I follow. We sprint through the undergrowth until we find ourselves running out of the forest and into a large open field. Sitting no more than one hundred feet from us is a gigantic stage. I can smell the paint from here. That stage must have been made very, very, very recently.

"Yo, rabbit!" A voice shouts from my left. I spin around to find a small fennec fox walking towards me. He has two drumsticks stuck in his left pocket and a set of shades on his face.

"You Andy?" He asks. I nod vigorously. He gives a chuckle.

"Nick sent me to get you. I'm Finnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!" The last part of the word is stretched as Judy tackles him in a hug.

"Finnick!" She laughs, squeezing him to her chest. "It's so great to see you!"

"Geroff me, Judy!" He grumbles, squirming. She releases him. He brushes himself off, looking a little embarrassed. "I'm Finnick." He says.

"I got that." I laugh. He shoots me a murderous look.

"Anyways, follow me. Nick sent me to get you two. He needs you two, you especially, Andy."

"Why me?" I ask, beginning to follow Finnick up the hill.

"Because our guitarist is currently stuck inside the Zootopian version of the video game "Snake." Finnick says grimly. "You can play guitar, right?"

"Yeah, I can." I say.

"Good. Sometimes Nick likes to tell me lies just to get me off his case. Sometimes he tells truths that sound like lies." Finnick shrugs. "I mean, he came up to me and said 'I have a cop bunny girlfriend who's brother can play guitar at rock band quality' and he expects me to not be skeptical."

"Which part were you skeptical about?" Judy says dryly.

"Nick having a girlfriend with a real job." Finnick answers. Judy laughs.

"Where is he?" She asks quietly. Finnick sighs.

"He's performing for thirty wolves right now in that house across the field." Finnick says, pointing to a small house on the horizon. "When we get there, Andy and I are going to have to go up and play with him."

"Wait, why are you-?" I begin, confused. And then I see the drumsticks in his pocket. The thick black writing on each which reads "FUCK PREJUDICE."

"You're a Warmblood!" I shout.

"You didn't realize that beforehand?" Judy says, surprised.

"No!" I say. Finnick is laughing.

"Yeah, I play the drums." He chuckles. "Speaking of which," He digs around in his pocket and tosses a small piece of plastic to me. I catch it in midair and stair at it. It's a small white guitar pick marked with a black logo of a fox in a gas mask.

"That's your pick and your ticket to backstage." Finnick says, tossing one to Judy. "You lose it, you don't get spots backstage. Got it?"

"Okay." I say. There's a pause.

"Can I use it? To play, I mean." I say. Finnick glances over his shoulder and nods. I grin, and stuff the pick into my pocket.

The rest of the journey to the farmhouse goes by fairly quickly. It's probably a twenty minute walk, but I barely notice it. I'm reciting lines in my head, preparing to play any music that they could ask of me. I got the official Warmbloods tab books when I was twelve. This should be a piece of cake.

We enter the house through a door on the patio. It's surprisingly quaint on the inside, with pictures of the family on the mantle. We walk through. Suddenly, I watch Judy's ears perk up. I strain my own ears, and I hear it.

" _Beginning to think I'm wasting my time, I don't understand the things I do."_ Finnick is walking in the direction of the noise, with Judy at his side. We walk through a set of halls until we reach an enormous open conference room. Only it's not open now. It's packed with wolves of all sizes, all with their ears turned to something out of my view at the front of the room.

" _The world outside looks so unkind, and I'm countin' on you, to carry me through!_ CLAP FOR ME!." The singer shouts. The wolves start to clap. Suddenly, the two in front of me part, and I can finally see the stage. There's a drum set, three speakers, and a fox with an acoustic guitar in front of the one microphone.

" _So, give me the beat boys, and free my soul, I want to get lost in your rock and roll and drift away!"_ Nick sings gently, sweetly. "KEEP CLAPPING!" He shouts. There's a wolf cub on his shoulder, waving his arms in the air and looking completely content. Nick's eyes roam the room freely, his hands moving independently of his mind.

Without warning, he stops. He takes the guitar off, gently places the cub on the ground, and walks off the small stage. He starts to walk, and then to run. A red and a gray blur collide in mid-stride, slamming into each other, spinning around and around. There's cheering, and I think I'm joining in. Judy is crying into Nick's shoulder, Nick looks like he's going in that direction himself, Finnick looks like he's trying to stop himself from cheering as well, and the wolves are applauding. Slowly, wordlessly, Nick leads Judy up to the mic. He puts the guitar on again, and she leans against him. Silently, he starts to strum again.

" _Thanks for the joy that you've given me, and I want you to know,"_ he looks at me, _"I believe in your song. And rhythm and rhyme and harmony, you've helped me along, you've made me strong."_ He smiles at Judy, and she smiles up at him, and I've never believed in fairy tales but this is too good to be true. " _So,_ GO!" He shouts to the crowd.

" _Give me the beat boys and free my soul, I want to get lost in your rock and roll and drift away!"_ They sing. Nick twirls Judy gently, dancing with her as the crowd sings, pausing occasionally to strum the guitar, and the song fades to black. I realize that I've wondered for a while if Dad was right. If foxes and rabbits shouldn't be together, if there was something fundamentally wrong with it. And I watch them, and I have only one thought.

 _Man, Dad couldn't have been more wrong._

 **A/N: So, I lied about two things. First: this chapter didn't come out on Tuesday. Whoops. I was very busy. It's up now. Second: there's a good chance that there may be two more parts to the festival plus the epilogue. The story has a mind of its own. Thank you for reading me, as usual. Next chapter will** **probably** __ **be up sometime next week. Most of the song requests are going to go into some part of the festival. Stay chill, guys. Until next week.**

 **NJ**


	12. Chapter Ten Part Three

Nick

"So then," Finnick is laughing so hard he looks like he's going to cry. "Nick goes: 'WE'RE THE WARMBLOODS, MOTHERF-!" He breaks out laughing, rolling around on the floor of the stage.

"I think you might be exaggerating a little bit." I comment dryly. Judy laughs.

"I think he's telling a picture perfect story of what happened." She murmurs. Judy is sitting in my lap, her ears over my shoulder and my guitar leaning against her thigh, a look of perfect contentment on her face. Darkness has fallen over the field which will soon become the home of the gigantic music festival. About an hour ago, the first mammals began to reach here, and now, there's a veritable forest of tents spread out across the fields. Finnick, Judy, Andy, Henry and I are seated in a semicircle on the main stage, watching the forest of tents and small torches grow larger as the crowd increases in size. It's a little scary, to say nothing of the bands that are already filling the tent behind the stage, getting ready for a huge show tomorrow. James is still nowhere to be found.

This conversation started when Judy asked Finnick and Henry if they had embarrassing stories about me. Needless to say, they did. Punk rock is great form of music, and I love it a lot, but _cheese and crackers_ did they have a lot of stories about me.

"In all seriousness, my best story about Nick is the time he went to the emergency room when we were just starting off as a band. We were playing our eighth big show, and he was pretty drunk."

"Hey!" I protest. "They gave me something at the bar I wasn't prepared for!"

"What did you order?" Judy asks.

"Um." I pause, trying to remember. "Something called a 'Zootopian Snakebite?'"

"Yeah, but it had like eight shots of vodka in it, and next thing you know, Nick was more drunk than an otter after a tequila drinking contest." Henry laughs. "So next thing you know, we're onstage, and we've played two songs, and Nick decides it's time to do a stage dive. Needless to say, the crowd was surprised and didn't catch him."

"I fell pretty hard." I say ruefully. Henry grins.

"The best part about this, though," Henry's grin is spreading slowly. "Is that he didn't even realize that he had fallen. He got right back up, bleeding from his nose and cheeks, and climbed up on stage for a fifteen minute guitar solo. He passed out the moment we left the stage, and was taken to the ER for alcohol poisoning and a broken nose."

The group roars with laughter. Even I have to grin. I was so drunk; I don't actually remember doing that. All I remember were the videos of me doing it. That was also not a great time for me. Back in the beginning, when we were just getting started, I was very angry. I was for a really long time, and I only started to let go of that anger when I met Judy. That point, where my anger suddenly vanished, coincided with the point where I finished the acoustic versions of the songs on the new album.

I get a weird knot in my chest whenever I think about the new album. It's the last studio album we're going to put out, and it was recorded in the private studio which I rented out with band funds over the course of a week. It's going to have ten songs on it. Two are acoustic guitar only, one is a song we play in concert but have never recorded, and the last seven are all completely new. We released one thousand advance copies, and they were bought instantly. The cover and title of the album still haven't been released.

"Alright, enough Nick-bashing." Judy smiles. She pauses, her nose twitching, and looks thoughtfully out at the crowd. "What's the best story you guys have? I mean, not embarrassing, but like-?"

"Nick actually looking like a rock star?" Finnick smirks. Judy nods. Finnick and Henry look at each other.

"Pawlapalooza." They say simultaneously. I groan, and Judy perks up.

"What's that?" She asks eagerly.

"It wasn't that big a deal!" I grimace. _At least, it didn't seem like that big a deal at the time._

"So, we played Pawlapalooza one time. We had just released _This is What Remains_ , and we were essentially a really big deal. So we got a gig to headline Pawlapalooza, which is gigantic. We had a two hour set list set up, the whole thing set to go, and the tickets had sold out in minutes. We were really hyped up, and so we go out there and get ready to play, and right there, just off the stage, is a group of sheep holding a big banner that says 'GO HOME PREDS.'"

"No." Judy whispers, horrified.

"Yep." Finnick nods shortly. "We probably would have just tried to ignore them. Not Nick. Nick lit a match and set the banner on fire."

"Nick!" Judy says, spinning around towards me. I laugh. "You did not!"

"Yep." I admit. "I did that."

"But that's not all." Henry smiles. "He then took his guitar off, smashed it onto the stage until it broke, and walked off."

Judy is looking at me very disapprovingly now. I can feel her foot tapping the guitar. I smile.

"What did you do?!" She looks to the other two, looking for someone to act like a grown mammal. Finnick looks a little scared.

"We both followed him." He mumbles.

"You both- you both- you both destroyed your instruments and walked offstage?!" She practically shrieks. "You're insane!"

"Yeah, I think that was the general vibe, actually." I say.

"We were on the news the next morning. The Pawlapalooza show had to refund practically everyone, but most lawyers that they brought on the air said we had a right to do what we did. It was a huge deal. There were foxes protesting in the streets because of what happened to us. Anyway, Nick decided that we should do a show anyways; we had created a set list, after all. So we went to a park in a low income predator neighborhood in the middle of the Rainforest District and played our set."

"The overflow for the people that came to see us went over two and a half blocks." I recall fondly.

"Yeah, that was nuts. The whole show, you were acting like a real rock star. Wait, I've got the picture here!" He pulls out his phone, turns it on, and shows the rest of the group. The lock screen photo is an image of me, water droplets hanging from my fur, with a tiger cub on my shoulders and a shirt which reads "WE ARE NOT THE PROBLEM" with a glimmering image of a gold fox paw holding a hypodermic needle. The cub and I are both holding our paws silently in the air, and the photo holds the power of the image in clear focus.

"I've seen that picture!" Andy exclaims. "That was on Mammal Magazine's cover for the top one hundred most influential bands. You guys came in number one!"

"Probably because of that show, honestly." Henry acknowledges. "That was the real breakout concert for us."

"I was at that concert." There's a quiet voice from behind us, and it's strangely accented. I turn my head casually. The first thing I see is the clothes: the incredibly expensive, insanely stylish clothes. Then, I see the face, and the horns. I would know that face anywhere. Anyone who's anyone knows whose face that is.

"Nice to meet you, Gazelle." I say casually. Judy spins around so fast I think she's going to dislocate her head. Finnick and Henry both look shocked, but aren't that bad. Andy has gone white under his fur.

"Are you…?" She trails off.

"My name is Nick Wilde, and I sing for the Warmbloods. I know we sang together, but I don't think you know my actual name." I say, standing. Judy hops down from off my lap to stare at her.

"It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Wilde." We exchange a formal hug. "Who is this?"

"This is my girlfriend, Judy." I say, my voice becoming a little colder.

"Ah, it's nice to meet you." Gazelle says warmly. I blink, and shrug. _Alright, that was a wrong assumption._ Turns out, some superstars are the same on camera as they are off it.

Judy and Gazelle shake paws. "I'm a big fan of your music." Judy says.

"My music is what I love to do, but what you do is much more important." Gazelle says dismissively. "Don't think that I don't know who you are. You are Zootopia's greatest police officer. What you do- defend our city- is incredibly important, and it is so much more vital that what I do."

Judy blinks, and I can see her go through the same realization I went through. I smile.

"Mr. Wilde, I know that I am playing tomorrow evening, but I want to watch some of the other acts." The star says, turning to me. "I don't suppose you know where I could do that?"

"First of all, don't talk to Mr. Wilde, cuz he don't know squat." Finnick has ambled up behind me. "The name's Finnick, and I'll help you with anything you need."

"Thanks, Fin. You make me feel so wanted." I say sarcastically. Judy giggles.

"You aren't." He says dismissively. Henry chortles. "Seriously, Nick. I'll handle this. You can do sound checking and stuff if you want. I've already drummed on this stage, so you should probably play and sing."

"Fair enough." I shrug. He nods, and leads Gazelle off to a backstage area. I watch them go for a second, and then turn to Judy. There's something I need to say.

"Judy." I begin.

"Nick." She echoes, and then smiles. "What's up?"

"Judy, I-." I stop. _Where to begin, where to begin?_ I have so much to tell her, so much to say to her, and I have no time to say it. I feel as though I'm drowning in a sea of words, a sea of things to tell her. _Start from the beginning!_ That's the only way I can tell her.

"Judy, I think you need to know something." I say, and put my head down. She walks forward slowly, silently. "I think I'm holding you down."

"What do you mean?" She whispers.

"I- I- I just-." I struggle with my words. _How do I put it? "_ You've worked so hard to be where you are. You're my shining light, you're what I look up to. You fought so long to be able to get to where you are- to be able to achieve your dreams, and now I'm going to ruin that just because I want you to myself. I don't have the right."

"Nick-."

"Listen, Judy. I don't want this to be over. But I can't let you destroy yourself because you think that you want to date a fox. In case you haven't noticed, I am a liability."

"Does it look like I care?" She interrupts. I stop, and look at her. Her violet eyes are wet. She takes my paws.

"Look at me, Nicholas Wilde." She smiles a little. " _Please don't look at me with those eyes."_

I recognize the lyric and respond before I even think.

" _Please don't hint that you're capable of lies."_

"I love you, a lot." She says. She pulls her ears down a little bit. "It's a little insane actually. You're a part of me, and I think it's the same way for you. We need each other, more than anything. I care about you. We'll figure out whatever comes together, alright?"

"Alright." My voice is barely more than a whisper. She smiles.

"Dumb fox." She murmurs, pulling me close.

"Beautiful bunny." I say, and pull her in with my own arms. We stay there for a while. I'd forgotten how much I loved this, how much I missed pulling her in close and just staying there. I can smell her- flowers and ink and blueberries. Those have become my favorite smells.

"What am I going to do with you?" I murmur. She laughs.

"Probably just keep playing music for me and keep being there for me. If you do that, we'll both be okay." She looks up at me, and I can tell she means it

"Alright, Carrots. Whatever you say." I smile, and she kisses me. We stay there for a second, frozen in time, neither of us wanting to break free.

I pull away slowly. "I should probably sound check."

She gives me a smile. "Do whatever you need to."

"Maybe afterwards, you could meet me in my tent…?" I ask. The grin on her face widens slowly.

"Yeah, I'd like that." She says with a smile. "Which one is it?"

I turn and point it out to her. It's a large tent, featuring a vast Warmbloods emblem on the side. She grins.

"Be there in fifteen minutes." She winks, and heads off, her tail moving slightly from side to side as she walks.

I watch her go, feeling slightly punch drunk, and shake my head slightly to clear it. She needs to stop doing that to me. I walk over to the side of the stage. Andy is lying on his back, looking up at his phone. His features are expressionless.

"Yo, Andy." I say. He perks up a little. I sit down beside him. "What's up?"

"My girlfriend." He says quietly. "She says that she can't come, her dad's put the house on lockdown."

"Ouch." I wince. Poor kit. I've had that excuse used against me a couple of times in the past. "You want to play?"

"Yeah, I guess." He sits up, turns off his phone, and looks around. "Where are we playing?"

"Right here." I say. His eyes widen. I smile, and toss him a pick from my pocket. He scrambles to his feet. He's smiling now too. I turn and jog to the other end of the stage, where a guitar is leaning against an amp.

I don't play this guitar very often. I used to play it for Warmbloods shows all the time, but then I decided that I would only play it for really big shows. It's gotten the nickname "The Warmblood Guitar" because of that.

It's a solid red Fendfur Stratocaster, with a solid black Warmbloods emblem on it. Stickers cover the body of the guitar, and the strings are blue. It's a very pretty instrument.

I make sure it's plugged in, and then I strap it on. Andy has already put his guitar on and looks ready to play.

"What do you want to play?" I ask.

"Can we play _If You Can't Hang_?"

I tilt my head. "Pretty angry song choice."

He gives a small nod.

I shrug. I enjoy playing it. Then again, that's not saying much.

"Count us off!" I shout to him. He smiles, and closes his eyes.

"1,2,3,4!" He shouts, and the lights on the stage turn on. I have begun to play, and it's not long before I hear him join in. I wait. It's not quite the same without drums, but I can't hold up Finnick, because he's doing important stuff. I let the lights burn away the doubts that I've been holding since I left for Bunnyburrow- about Judy, about the band, about the album, about my job. It's time to play music, and forget about all that, because that is why music was created.

 **A/N: NEW CHAPTER YAY. Alright, two more chapters total. No lie.**

 ***crying noises in the background***

 **Seriously, you guys have been so great to me and to this story. It's going to take about eight thousand more words to wrap this whole thing up. Thank you so much for following me, and for reading my work. I have no idea what I should write next, so if you have an idea, hit me up. I'd love to hear it. I will write for you guys again, I promise.**

 **Thank you so so so so so so so so so much. All of you. I mean it.**

 **PM me if you have anything to say. Rest of the festival next chapter. It's gonna be a long one. Hang in there.**


	13. Chapter Ten Part Four

**A/N: If you want, you can play these songs while reading. These are the songs which will be played.**

 _ **If You Can't Hang by Sleeping With Sirens**_

 _ **Fire, Water, Burn**_ **by** _ **the Bloodhound Gang**_

 _ **Bohemian Rhapsody**_ **by** _ **Queen (duh.)**_

 _ **Last of the American Girls**_ **by** _ **Green Day**_

 _ **Death Valley**_ **by** _ **Fall Out Boy**_

 _ **Before the Lobotomy**_ **by** _ **Green Day**_

Nick

"Alright, band meeting!" I shout, checking my watch. It's about 6:10. We go on in about fifty minutes, meaning that it's time to get ready to go up.

We've been backstage for the past two hours, meaning that we haven't seen any of the really big acts. Right now, Gazelle is onstage, and I can hear the faint chords from one of her songs even here. Before her, Mink Floyd played and before them was the second biggest band at this festival- Sloth Fight Club. It doesn't sound like much, and generally sloth rock is unbelievably slow. Luckily for both the festival and the band, the only member of the band who isn't a sloth is the lead singer and guitarist. So they play at a pretty average pace.

"Nick, what time is it?" Finnick asks, walking over, our masks in his paws.

"6:10." I say.

Finnick lets out a whistle. "Almost time, then." He swings the drumsticks absentmindedly. "Think it's gonna be a good crowd?"

"Well, let's see here: they abandoned their cars and trekked ten miles into the country to see us play. It's going to be phenomenal." I say, ruffling the fur on Finnick's head.

James walks over absently. He showed up at about noon. I was getting food at one of the booths that popped up around the edges of the festival when he tapped me on the shoulder. He had managed to get a Zoo-Haul trailer full of the coolest special effects items through the crowded highway and make his way to us. Those items are going to come in extremely useful tonight. We're playing a one and a half hour set list, and the theme for the concert is "red." James has been setting up the stage and the instruments for us all day. In order to make a really good one and a half hour concert, the whole thing has to be interesting, and I think I've made sure it's going to be.

That's the thing about playing a show. You can have the best day ever- you can reunite with your girlfriend, you can host a huge festival, and you can get up onstage that night and play the worst gig in your life. At the same time, the opposite is true. You can get onstage after the worst night of your life and play the best show ever. I remember playing a show the night Judy went out with that other rabbit a second time. I don't remember practically any of it, but I remember that attitude I had going into it- like I didn't care any about anything anymore.

"You ready, Nicky?" James asks quietly.

"Of course, James." I grin. "Where's Henry."

"Here, Nick." I turn. Henry is already in his mask, which Finnick gave him while I was turned away, and has his guitar strapped to his chest. I do a double take when I see the instrument.

"That's a Warmblood guitar!" I say, shocked. "I thought you guys had lost yours!" I spin to James.

He shakes his head with a laugh. "I would never lose mine. It reminds me of where we came from, if that makes any sense."

"I get it." I say softly. "I totally get it."

There's a pause. They're all looking at me, waiting. I usually give the pre-concert pep talks, but right now I'm at a loss for words. This band has meant so much to me, but when that album comes out, we're breaking up. I feel torn between letting out a sigh of relief and crying.

And finally, I know what I have to say.

"I wanted to tell you guys something." I say. _Breathe in, Nick, old boy. Alright, go._ "I want to tell you guys that I think the band should stay together after the last album is released."

There's dead silence, such that a pin could drop onstage and we would be able to hear it.

"I mean, we wouldn't tour or anything!" I continue hurriedly. "We would just- y'know- play a gig here and there, maybe paly this festival next year. I don't know what I want, just that I want this to keep going for as long as we can make it go."

"I agree." Henry speaks first, and his voice shows relief. Relief and… happiness? "I'm not sure I could live knowing we wouldn't play together every so often. Those years during the hiatus were hard for me."

"Me too." James agrees.

"Nick," Finnick's voice is serious. "I agree with you, but the cover of the new album- wouldn't we have to change it?"

"No." I say quietly. The others looks stunned. I can't blame them. "If we keep the cover as it is, we can play concerts without masks for the first time in years."

There's another pause, this one longer that the other one.

"Alright, then." Henry begins to smile. "Let's do it, Nick. Let's stay together."

"Thank god." I murmur. "Alright, everybody know the set list?" I speak up.

"Although if you don't know it by this point, you're pretty much screwed anyways." James laughs. Finnick grins.

"I'm assuming that's a yes." I look around at the three of them. "Masks on, guys. Let's play."

I take my mask from Finnick and place it on slowly, letting the smell of blood, sweat, and alcohol wash over me. I should really clean this thing. I make sure they're all ready, and then I lead the way through the catacombs of the backstage area. We walk through a series of winding hallways and down two sets of staircases, finally ending up at a tunnel five feet high which Finnick had dug for this specific purpose. The three of us begin our walk through it. The tunnel is long, unlit, and dug from the raw ground, meaning it's extremely uncomfortable. I walk through, feeling my way along the walls, with the others following me.

After about five minutes, the tunnel slopes upwards into a small circular room. The ground is made from metal, as are the walls. The roof is packed with a set of explosives placed there by Finnick earlier today.

From inside this small container, we can hear everything onstage. We are currently sitting inside the stage island which Finnick had built within the middle of the crowd. On all sides of the walls around us are mammals jamming out to Gazelle, with no idea that the next act is just a few feet from them. Gazelle is finishing with "Try Everything", which seems like an appropriate choice. We wait, silently.

"THANK YOU, ZOOTOPIA! LOVE YOURSELVES! LOVE EACH OTHER! GOOD NIGHT!" Gazelle screams from onstage, and the crowd cheers in response. The cheers are so loud that I can feel the walls vibrating. Finnick looks legitimately terrified. Again, we crouch down, and wait.

And then I hear it- at first, it's just a mess of screaming mammals. It takes shape slowly, into one, clearly defined chant.

 _WARM-BLOODS!_

 _WARM-BLOODS!_

 _WARM-BLOODS!_

 _WARM-BLOODS!_

I turn to Finnick and give a nod. He grins and presses the button on a small detonator in his paw. The roof above explodes, shooting off in an explosion of smoke and red paint. Fresh screams and cheers explode around us. The ground beneath us begins to rise. Slowly, the crowd forms around me, like an ocean. I'm surrounded by mammals of all sizes, of all species. In front of me is the stage, lit up like a birthday cake. The only decoration is a gigantic banner on the back of the stage which holds a black Warmbloods logo.

I look around the crowd, and raise my arms. The cheering increases to an almost deafening volume. I push my hands down, and the crowd quiets to almost silent.

"Fuck the bigots!" I shout, and the cheering explodes forth once again. I turn towards the stage. I pick Finnick up, and throw him onto my shoulders. I breathe in, and walk off the island. The crowd grabs my feet, picking me up, carrying me towards the large extension which comes off the mainstage. Behind me, I see Henry doing the same thing.

Slowly, we approach the stage, and I step off the hands of the people holding me up and onto the extension. Finnick hops down and the two of us turn around the crowd. I look over to the large blocks which were made for the smaller mammals, and am pleased to find that they're being used. I catch sight of a familiar pair of black tipped ears and violet eyes on top of one of the blocks. I wink, and immediately, I see that they've put her on the giant screens. _That was fast_.

I walk up the extension and pick the guitar up from where it sits on a stand on the stage. I strap it on, and play a chord just to make sure it's on. I grin. _Oh, it's on, alright._

"How are you guys doing?!" I shout into the microphone. There's a chorus of unintelligible screams. "How about we start you off tonight with something you can sing to? This! Is! IF YOU CAN'T HANG!"

The acoustic guitar begins behind me. The crowd is silent, and the lights flicker off.

 _1._

 _2._

 _3._

 _4._

I hear the bass riff, and the whole band starts to play. The crowd is jumping up and down. I feel the spotlight on me as I play. Red and black lights are flashing everywhere.

" _Met a girl at 17, thought she meant the world to me, so I gave her everything, she turned out to be a cheat."_

The music is soft and passionate. Not for long, of course, but that's sort of how it rolls with The Warmbloods.

" _Said she'd been thinking for a long time, and she'd found somebody new, I've been thinking for this whole time-!"_

I hold the mic out to the crowd.

" _Girl, I'd never thought you'd STAY!"_ They scream, and the music isn't soft, it's loud and angry and sad and so very stereotypically Warmbloods.

" _BUT THAT'S OKAY! I HOPE HE TAKES YOUR FILTHY HEART AND THEN HE THROWS YOU AWAY SOMEDAY! Before you go, there's one thing you outta know!"_ I hit the high notes, and with each one, a light flashes above me. "CLAP!"

" _If you can't hang then there's the door baby, if you can't hang then there's the door baby, if you can't hang then there's the door!"_ Both Henry and James sing this part, while I clap and conduct the crowd. 

_Wait for it,_ I have to force myself not to turn around, not to give it away, and then-

" _If you can't hang then- there's the door!"_ The four of us shout. I hear the bangs, and the crowd screams as the banner unfurls at the back of the stage and enormous spotlights explode from all sides, pointed towards the crowd. I grin. That banner is old, we made it back before we were supposed to play Pawlapalooza. It's still my favorite piece of Warmbloods gear.

" _I-i-i-i-i-i-i! Don't wanna take your precious time! Because you're such a pretty pretty pretty face, but you've turned into a pretty big waste of my time!_ " I sing, and the crowd is bouncing. Only one thought is in my head, and it fills me with confidence.

 _Good crowd. Super good crowd._

The song finishes after another round of chorus and intense vocals. The crowd cheers for all of them. I hit the final chord with power, and fall back slightly, breathing hard. This is what playing music should always be like.

"Finnick, I think we got your wish!" I shout, covering the microphone so the crowd can't hear his name. He grins.

"You don't sound too mad about it." He teases. I smirk, and turn away.

I grab the microphone stand and raise it up. The crowd roars. I walk forward, onto the runway that extends into the crowd, carrying the microphone with me. I set it down in the middle, and look around.

"AYYYYYYYYYYYY-OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" I shout.

" _AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"_ The ocean of mammals on all sides of me screams. I grin. Turning, I kneel down until I'm face to face with a female tigress in the first row. She's shrieking and essentially looks as though she's going to pass out.

"What do you want to hear?" I ask with a smile, pulling the mic down and holding it to her.

"Can you play _Water, Fire, Burn?"_ **(KASHITO91 TYVM)** The tigress says loudly into the mic. The fans around her scream their approval.

"Fair enough." I say. I get up, put the microphone back, and run back to the main stage. I switch guitars, and grab my acoustic guitar, and jog back out to the mic.

I place my paw on the neck, and breathe in.

" _The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. We don't need no water-!"_

" _Let the motherfucker burn!"_ Henry and James sing.

" _We don't need no water,"_ I turn to them _. "LET THE MOTHERFUCKER BURN!"_

The ocean sways to the bass which thumps away the eighth notes below the low guitar chords. I have to laugh. This is the most insane concert I think I've ever played. I suppose that I should enjoy it while it lasts.

"YOU GUYS ARE GREAT! LET'S ROCK _! Hello, my name is Nicky Pop and I'm a dumb red fox! I'm not old or new but middle school like fifth grade, junior high!"_

I suppose that this was a good idea, but they haven't seen half of it yet. It's only gonna really start turning up in the last half of the concert. I smile, and play. I can't wait.

We play through eight more songs, hyping up the crowd. We don't play anything huge and no major hits make an appearance. Things like "St. Nicky", "Thriller", "Girl Harbor", and "I.I.N.A.S.F.S." (Interspecies Is Not A Synonym For Shitty) get played. I don't think I've played that many songs in a row without having to play a serious hit. The crowd seems to enjoy it enough, but at the end of eight, I know we must be pushing the limit. They need to hear something shocking, and they need to hear it soon.

I look out at the crowd, and there are scattered whoops, but they've gone mostly silent as I watch them.

"This festival is a symbol of peace and friendship between two different types of mammals, and I think that it's a noble reason to play." I say. "However, I think we would be sending the wrong message if we sat up here and played songs that you all have heard before with the masked muzzles that you all must know so well by now. With that in mind!" I shout, raising my arms. "Is there a mammal who is prey in the crowd tonight who can play the guitar for _Zootopian Rhapsody?!"_ I look around as the stadium shakes with the screams.

I pretend to search, to look. But I'm really only looking for one mammal right now, one rabbit. I look over to where I saw Judy earlier, and I see him. Looking almost white with shock, with one paw raised slightly in the air.

"SECURITY!" I shout. "Grab that rabbit right there! Yeah, that one!" I affirm as one of the security guard-bears looks up at me to confirm my selection. The bear forces his way through the crowd and grabs Andy, helping him across the one hundred feet of fur and horns to the stage. He walks slowly, looking as though he's going to cheer or pass out.

"What's your name, kit?" I wink through the mask.

"Andy." He says, and the sound echoes through the enormous field. "Andy Hopps."

"Alright, Andy." I take the guitar off from around my shoulders, adjust the strap and place it around his shoulders. "LET'S DO THIS, PEOPLE! CUT THE LIGHTS!"

The lights go off, and the stage is thrust into darkness. I wait, hearing the creak of unoiled wheels as the piano is wheeled onstage.

 _Good luck, Finnick._ I think, silently.

" _Is this the real life? Or is it just fantasy?"_ Henry, James and I are singing in harmony, and the only spotlight is on Finnick, playing the piano in the center of the stage. James managed to get it down here, to my astonishment.

" _Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality. Open your eyes, look up to the skies and seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…"_

" _I'm just a poor kit,"_ James soloes. " _I need no sympathy."_

" _Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low."_

" _Anywhere the wind blows,"_ James smiles. " _Doesn't really matter, to meeeeeeeeeeeeee."_

" _To me."_ All four of us end.

" _Mama, just killed a man."_ I sing loud and clear, letting my voice ring. " _Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead. Mama- life had just begun! But now I've gone and thrown it all away!"_

" _Mama! Oo-oo-oo-ooh!"_ Finnick sings. " _Didn't mean to make you cry! If I'm not back again this time tomorrow! Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters."_

The crowd sways. Andy looks as though he's living a dream.

" _Too late! My time has come. Sent shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time. Good bye, everybody! I've got to go! Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth."_ I smile, but I feel melancholy, as though a great weight is leaving my chest.

" _Mama! Oo-oo-oo-ooh! I don't wanna die! Sometimes, I wish I'd never been born at all!"_ I don't want to cry, it just seems like I'm about to. I think about my mother as Andy steps forward into the beam of eight lights and play the solo. The crowd roars. I look up, and hope that my mom is okay, wherever she is.

The piano begins to play continuous chords. Here goes nothing.

" _I see a little sillhuetto of a man-"_

" _SCARAMOUCH! SCARAMOUCH! WILL YOU DO THE FANDANGO?"_ All the others sing. I think I even hear Andy's voice, timid against the roars that come from Finnick and Henry.

" _Thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening me- GO_!"I cry out to the ocean of mammals.

" _Galileo!"_

" _Galileo!"_ James is the only one with a voice low enough to hit this piece.

" _Galileo!"_ The crowd chants.

" _Galileo!"_ James responds.

" _Galileo Figaro!"_ They scream.

" _MAGNIFICO!"_ I cry, and the others layer on me, layer upon layer upon layer building to a grand chorus.

" _I'm just a poor boy nobody loves me."_ I murmur, pushing pity into my voice.

" _HE'S JUST A POOR BOY FROM A POOR FAMILY, SPARE HIM HIS LIFE FROM THIS MONSTROSITY!"_ The others cry.

" _Easy come, easy go. Will you let me go?"_ I simper.

" _Bismillah! We will not let you go- LET HIM GO!"_ Smoke guns are shooting from the top of the stage, and the lights are flashing so bad everything has taken on a vaguely grey tone. I focus on the repeating " _Bismillah! We will not let you go- LET HIM GO!"_

" _no no no NO NO NO NO! Oh mamma mia, mamma mia let me go! Beezlebub has a devil put aside for me-e-e, for me-e-e, for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"_ I strain to hit the highest note, slamming into my falsetto. The crowd roars its approval.

Now, the fun part. Smoke is going everywhere, and I can hear fireworks going off behind the stage as Andy steps up to play the guitar. I grab the microphone, and without him noticing, I hold it to the side of his mouth.

" _So you think you can stone me and split my eye!"_ His voice is perfectly on key, and the crowd goes insane. I pull the mic back to me

" _So you think you can starve me and leave me to die! Oooooh baby, can't do this to me baby, just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here!"_ I bounce on the pads of my paws, the spotlight following me as I go, Andy on guitar staring out at the audience.

Without warning, almost too soon, the music is slowing again, becoming sweeter. Andy looks like he wants to sleep. I walk almost sadly back to the center of the runway where the microphone stand is.

" _Nothing really matters, anyone can see. Nothing really matters…"_

" _To-o-o-o-o-o meeeeeeeeeeee."_ The four of us sing in harmony, and the whooping makes my ears shake.

"Thank you!" I shout, and walk over to give Andy a hug. He looks as though he's been electrocuted. "Andy Hopps, everybody! He could be a rock star, and I know there are some of you who can make that happen! Talk to him afterwards!" I turn to him. "You can go out through backstage."

"Okay." He says dazedly, and walks out off the stage. I give a long breath, and turn back to the crowd.

"I think you all would benefit from a nice long infusion of new Warmbloods music. Who's getting the album when it comes out?"

I like pretending to have a conversation with the audience at concerts, because it makes me feel like I'm talking to a real person who simply speaks in a language of unintelligible screams, cheers, whoops, laughs, and claps. This time, the crowd screams loudly. I give a slight head nod.

"I'll take that as a lot of you. Alright, so for our last three songs, we decided we'd play three new ones off the album, I think you'll—."

At this point, I'm cut off by the rise in the volume level of the sea of mammals. I give a faint smile, and take a bow low to the stage. Something falls in front of my feet. I pick it up. It's a small hat with the words "BUNNYBURROW MILITIA" printed on it. An idea strikes me. I take it, and place it on my head, adjust it, and make an obscene paw gesture towards the crowd. The cheering is almost too much to take. I pull the hat off and toss it back into the crowd.

"THREE SONGS LEFT!" I roar. "ALL OF THEM NEW! THIS CONCERT IS CALLED "RED" FOR A REASON, SUCKERS! PREPARE YOURSELVES!"

I kneel down, and the lights go off, save for a single red beam which falls from the highest point of the stage and focuses on me. The field is silent, motionless, waiting for something to happen.

I stand slowly, letting the soft breeze ripple my fur. I run the order over in my mind.

"This one goes out to the girl who changed me." I say. "1,2,3,4!"

" _She puts her makeup on, like graffiti on the walls of the heartland. She's got her little book, of conspiracies right in her paw. She is paranoid, endangered species headed into extinction."_ The bass thumps away. " _She is one of a kind, well, she's the last of the Zootopian girls."_

The drums come in hard, and I look up to see the jumbo screens have gone white. I allow myself a second of relief, and then turn my attention back to the song.

" _She wears her overcoat for the coming of the nuclear winter."_ I sing. " _She's riding her bike, like a fugitive of critical mass. She's on a hunger strike for the ones who won't make it for dinner. She makes enough to survive, for a holiday of working class."_

Judy's image pops into my head. I wrote this song thinking about her in the three months after the press conference. I look at the image of Judy in my head, and pour the feelings in my heart into my voice.

" _She's a runaway of the establishment incorporated. She won't cooperate; well she's the last of the Zootopian girls."_

I look up, but I know from the screams that they've seen what's happening behind me. Sparks shooting from large generators atop the stage, and the banner at the back burning, lighting the stage in orangey light. The banner burns, and I know that soon they'll see it, the enormous black logo on the white backdrop, and they'll understand.

I play the guitar in my paws hard, slamming each line and playing each note. A fresh wave of cheers alerts me to the fact that the banner has burned away, showing the image of a tiger and a deer locked in an embrace in bright red.

" _She puts her makeup on, like graffiti on the walls of the heartland! She's got her little book of conspiracies right in her paw. She will come in first on the end of western civilization- she's a natural disaster, she's the last of the Zootopian girls!"_

Two beats, four beats, and I hit the final chord, letting the sound ring. The audience is screaming their appreciation, but I've tuned them out entirely now.

I've got it timed so perfectly. I grab the microphone, and run out, diving off the stage. I'm caught, and the hands beneath me seem to sense where I want to go. I wait until I feel one of my feet hit the cold metal of the island from which we started, and I hoist myself onto it. I look back to the stage. I am completely surrounded.

I wait, and then it starts playing. The intro to the next song. James has walked forward and is clapping to the beat, and the crowd gets it, they start clapping to.

" _I wanna see your animal side! Let it all out! I wanna see the dirt-"_ breathe. " _under your skin! I need your broken promises!"_

" _I want the guts and glory baby, baby!"_ The others are singing from the mainstage, and I can hear them clearly.

" _Let's get you wasted and alone!"_ I cry.

" _BUT WE ARE ALIVE! HERE IN DEATH VALLEY!"_ And around me, the paint guns which have been set up begin to fire, sending spurts of red paint into the crowd as the lights onstage sweep it and turn the air into fire. The cheering and raucous yells are split as red paint flies everywhere. I feel it hit me in the shoulder, slamming into my shoulder and splattering my paws. _"SO DON'T TAKE LOVE OFF THE TABLE YET! 'CUZ TONIGHT IS JUST FIRE ALARMS AND LOSING YOU!"_

" _We love a lot so we only lose a little- but we are alive!"_ I lean forward and play the solo as the other instruments drop out and the sea bounces, a rolling wave pool full of screaming, cheering fans.

The paint guns are going insane by now, spraying on all sides indiscrimately. The lights sweep the crowd, and I feel dozens of paws clutching at my legs as I play. It's so weird to be here on the island and not on the stage. I make a mental note to try to avoid doing this again.

Paint, lights, and the noise of thousands of strangers, and yet I feel strangely alone. Even as I play the second verse, the second chorus, and the bridge, I feel as though I am stranded, playing my guitar for an empty field. It's oddly comforting, but very sad.

The song ends, and the lights go out again. I jump back into the paws of the crowd, and they take me slowly back to the stage. I'm dripping in red paint, and my bandmates are completely dry. Henry gives a slight shake of his head, a grin on his face.

"Oh, don't look so smug." I grin. "You're going to look like this in a second anyways."

"Fair enough." He smiles.

Slowly, the only light remaining on the stage is a spotlight on me. Henry and James have set up much closer to me, and Finnick is right behind me.

"You all have been wonderful. Love each other, love yourselves, and hustle harder. This one is called 'Before the Lobotomy.'" I say into the mic.

I begin to play slowly, and the lights raise slowly, illuminating the rest of the stage.

" _Dreaming… I was only dreaming."_ My voice is mournful, melodic. " _Of another place and time, where my family's from. Singing… I can hear them singing, when the rain had washed away all these scattered."_

The lights have gone completely blue. " _Dying…"_ I'm still solo, looking out into the darkness. " _Everyone reminding… hearts are washed in misery, drenched in gasoline. Laughter, there is no more laughter. Songs of yesterday now live in the underground."_

I trail off. And then—

I have to struggle to count and contain my energy as the drums come in.

1,2,3.

1,2,3.

1,2,3 GO!.

" _Life before the lobotomy!"_ I cry, hitting the chords hard with the full weight of my arm. " _Catolics sang the eulogy!"_

" _Signed my love a lost memory!"_ Henry leans in and sings as well. Each beat- 1,2,3- a paint gun on the roof of the stage fires, sending red paint into the crowd below. They're clapping and bouncing, and I've never felt better in my life. " _From the end of the century!"_

A series of intense eighth notes follows, all of which I have to palm mute, and then James, Henry and I all come in.

" _Well it's enough to make you sick, to cast a stone and throw a brick, for when the sky is falling down, you burned your dreams into the ground!"_

" _HEY!"_ The sea chants as one.

" _Christian's lessons, what he's been told!"_ I cry. " _We are normal and self-controlled!"_

" _Remember to learn to forget-"_ Henry begins.

" _Whisky shots and cheap cigarettes!"_ All three of us cry, and Finnick slams through the beat as paint flies from the pools which have formed on the drums. "

" _Well I'm not stoned, I'm just fucked up! I got so high, I can't stand up, I'm not cursed 'cuz I've been blessed, I'm not in love cause I'm a mess!"_

" _Like refugees! We're lost like refugees! Like refugees! We're lost like refugees!"_ We chant as paint spins from above us and my face appears on the screens on the sides of the stage. " _The brutality! Of reality! Is the freedom that keeps me from…"_ I trail off and wait for it, wait for this song which I'm so proud of to hit the really good bit.

" _Dreaming! I was only dreaming! Of another place and time! Where my family's from!"_ There's sparks raining down from the top of the stage now, and I make sure not to get caught under them. It's almost a dreamlike state which I'm in. I walk forward, and I feel Henry and James do the same. " _Singing- I can hear them singing! When the rain had washed away all these scattered dreams."_

" _Dying!"_ Henry sings. " _Everyone reminding. Hearts are washed in misery, drenched in gasoline."_

" _Laughter!"_ I look out at the audience, and at the sky which has grown to a pitch black. " _There is no more laughter! Songs of yesterday now live… in the underground."_

There's silence as the final chord is strummed, and together, the three of us turn, and walk forward, kneel, and place our arms around each other's shoulders. I feel a slight push, and know Finnick has just climbed onto my shoulders.

I stand, and look out at the crowd.

"We are a nation of one, and it should stay that way. Long live Zootopia. Good night."

 **A/N PART TWO:**

 **I have only a couple things to say. Thank you Kashito. Thank you Girandou. Thank you everyone for your support and help on this. Epilogue comes out over the weekend. I love you all.**

 **NJ out.**


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

 _Zootopia Music Magazine Reviews:_

 _ **Predatory Faith**_ _by_ _ **The Warmbloods**_

 **GRADE: 5 GOLDEN PAWS**

 _ **Review by Guest Author: Andy Hopps**_

 _I'd like to start out by saying that I did not assign the rating of this album. I agree with it, of course, but longtime followers of ZMM may know that a 5-Paw rating is extremely rare, and that guest authors are more likely to give them. I did not do this, and that review was determined by a committee of the editors._

 _Most readers will have spent the last two weeks hearing about this album nonstop, so most of you already know the particulars. With this in mind, I will give only the briefest summary of the events following this album's release. The cover art for the album has been hidden for a very long time, so much so that the art was only released one hour before the album. There has been some speculation about what the art was going to be, but when it came out, it blew everyone away._

 _The cover features the image of a fox in a gas mask, with the words "Predatory Faith" stamped over the eyes of four separate mammals, who stand side by side in vivid color on a white background. The fans of the band put two and two together almost immediately- the Warmbloods had finally revealed their faces. The album was released, and after it sold out, thousands of mammals began to search for images to fit the four mammals on the cover._

 _The first Warmblood was found just hours before press time- Nicholas P. Wilde, a ZPD officer, was discovered as the band's lead singer. This news is currently being live streamed on the television as I write this. Mr. Wilde is on ZNN, talking with the anchor about the music he makes and the band._

 _The music on the album consists of a combination of new songs, acoustic versions of old songs, and a variety of concert-only music. Many reviews rave about the acoustic songs, citing that they "bring new power to old music" and discussing a few of the biggest hits as some of the best Warmbloods songs ever written. However, the best songs on this album have barely been discussed at all in reviews, and so I will discuss them here._

 _"Coffee is for Closers" and "Disloyal Soldiers of the Water Buffalo" carry significant overtones of anti-authority and punk rock as a guiding force. This is a very classic Warmbloods move. However, reading more into the songs, they show that they are narratives on an issue which has been dividing this city for months- predator rights and treatments. It is the lead singer, a fox, who sings (in "Coffee is for Closers): "We will never believe again!" Fox treatment in this day and age is especially disgusting to me, and I am a rabbit. They are fellow animals, and should be treated as such._

 _These songs show the outrage of the band at the treatment of predators in this city over the past months, and rightly so. "Put him in the back of a squad car/restrain that mammal/ he needs his head put through a CAT scan/hey editor, I'm undeniable/hey doctor, I'm certifiable." They sing in "Disloyal Soldiers." This may be just what the city needs, and these undertones have, surprisingly, heightened the number of prey buying the album. Demographics show a higher percentage of herbivore buyers for this album than for the last two albums combined._

 _The album is a well-balanced, expertly written, beautiful piece of punk rock history, and it will undoubtedly remain that way for a very long time. The Warmbloods cemented their place in rock history long before this, but this is their Coup-de-Grace. They have taken a stand and placed themselves into their brightest spotlight yet._

 _This album has received praise from all sides, and has already entered the discussion for the Growlmy for Best Album. However, this album has been given five paws from ZMM for it's simplicity, and it's raw power. The Warmbloods will lead the way, and the rest of the world will follow, and I, for one, will look to the horizon for what they will do next. They have said that this is it, their final album, and that they will be breaking up. However, this is the Warmbloods we're talking about. They will be back, and they will be back sooner than ever_ _ **(A/N: Oh, whoops, did I write that into the story? Silly me.)**_ _if the past is any indication. The city will wait eagerly. I know I will._

 _NOTE FROM THE EDITORS OF ZNN: Andy Hopps' is the lead singer for the new band "Carrot Farming Bumpkins." Their new album "Fifty Ways to Skin a Politician" will be coming out in two weeks._

 **A/N: Well, this is it. Thank you all for reading me so much. I might not write for a while, and I might just write a few one shots, but I've got a few ideas. I've gotten so much love for this story it's shocking to me. So, with that in mind, I have a confession to make. Before this story, I was a Top 40 lover. My favorite song? "Trap Queen" by Fetty Wap.**

 **I know. I know.**

 **I decided to write a story about music because it was, and still is, my favorite influence. However, Top 40 was not suitable for Nick, and I knew that. So I started to listen around, and I hit upon the idea of neo-punk and classic rock. Your song suggestions and other ideas have opened my mind to a new world of the best music I can imagine. Thank you so much. I can't say that enough.**

 **I will write again if you all want. I know for sure that there will be a fairly short five chapter story about a hurricane in the near future, but that might just be a quick hold over, because I want to write about this band again. It might not come for a while, but within the next two months, there is the potential for a new, possibly shorter Warmbloods story. In the event that you are freaking out about a month long wait, hit me up. I might write a one shot or two for someone. Let me know what you think. There's a chance I might not do it at all, everything is up in smoke right now. One thing is for sure, and that is that I love all of you, my dear readers, and that you will be hearing from me sooner rather than later.**

 **3 :D**

 **NJ Out for Now.**


	15. Announcement!

BIG NEWS! Teaser/Prologue for Warmbloods: Save Rock and Roll is up as of now. You might hate it. If so, let me know. I'd be fine ending it as a one shot. If not, tell me that as well. I live to serve.

NJ


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